Posts tagged as:

writing

On Transformation

by Myg on October 11, 2010

I’m done, mostly, writing Osa Bella.

(If you don’t know what Osa Bella is, it’s an epic Twilight fan fiction–all 162k words of it–that I spent, oh sheesh, EIGHT MONTHS writing and posting online for all the world to read.)

This is my remorse post. My omgwtfbbq have I done? post.

Because I have the distinct feeling that nothing will ever be the same now.

I’m not afraid to tell you, I think Osa Bella kicks ass. It’s by no means perfect, but with another rewrite (or ten), would probably be something quite good, able to hold its own on any bookshelf. But as it is, flaws and all (and there are plenty) I still really believe this story is solid, even if there are places the writing is meh. There aren’t many spots where the writing makes me cringe, anyway. If you want to read Osa Bella, you can do that at Fanfiction.net (good for reading on your phone or iPod) or download the .pdfs from Osabella.mygdala.com, but be warned now, there are some fairly graphic sex scenes in it. It is most certainly not intended for readers under the age of 18, or anyone who might blush if they see me in person.

In any case, now that I’ve written it, I think I might have broken some part of my brain because all I want to do now is write. I’ve never done anything in my life that felt so very me.

I know that’s not exactly a problem requiring such a strong feeling as remorse, but I have to make a living. If I’d written a story that was not so immersed in the Twilight universe as Osa Bella is, I would be able to send this out to agents and publishers and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone, somewhere, showed an interest. But as it is there’s no hope of that. So I’ve got to write something else now.

That’s not a problem either, actually. The problem is this: when I become completely absorbed in crafting a story, my mind becomes largely unavailable to do the things that put bread and milk and diet cokes and turkey burgers on the table. And that is my first job–to provide for my family.

So I’ve been transformed into something that feels really good, and out of something I need to be. Which is a breadwinner.

And there it is.

I’m trying very hard not to consider myself fucked.

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It’s heeeerrrrreeeee!

by Myg on May 23, 2010

You want to read it, right? Right?

Okay, well let me explain a little about it.

It is a Twilight fan fiction. That’s right. A Twilight. Fan. Fiction.

It’s intended for:

  • Adults, women  probably, who love Twilight
  • Adults who love the idea of  a vampire romance fantasy story but didn’t like Twilight so much
  • Those of us who devoured Twilight but had to tell our inner literary critics to STFU the entire time (this is the category I fell into).

What if Twilight was written for grown women instead of teen girls? By me?

Osa Bella is the answer. If you are curious, please check it out over at Twitarded and leave a comment. If you’d like a .pdf and a bunch of geeked out extras, you can visit Osa Bella at home here.

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Where my head’s been at. (unpretty, but true)

by Myg on May 21, 2010

Oh my, it’s been a whole motherfucking month since I’ve posted here? Shy of six days, an entire month? What can I say?

I have been writing a fan fiction novel on Twilight. Writing this thing has been totally absorbing. And educational. On many levels. And it has been a great bit of escapism, one of my greatest escapes of all time. One thing I now know about myself? I can write a novel. It would be nice if I’d write one that wasn’t using someone else’s intellectual property, sure. But at least I wrote one.  And those of you who are curious to read it will get your chance starting tomorrow over at Twitarded.

It’s called Osa Bella and it was written for women who read the Twilight saga and/or saw the films (men too, if they are so inclined) and fell hard for the romance between Edward and Bella but had this nagging voice in the back of their mind saying, would a character as fantastic (and old) as Edward Cullen really want to be with a high school chick? Really?

I work with high school girls, and I can tell you, he would not.

So this story is basically Twilight, but with the twist that Edward meets Bella when she’s an adult. She’s lived a little. Has some baggage. And some other shit happens. Also, sex. Not as much as other fanfics. This story is not about lemons. But there are some lemons in key places where they need to be.

No analysis for you as to why I’ve been obsessively writing this. There are two reasons. 1. It was fucking fun and absorbing, like a good paper towel or feminine hygiene product. 2. It gave me a break from grieving. Forgive my spotty mood from here on out. I think it’s gonna be awhile before I right myself completely.

Also. FFFOOORRRKKKSSS. I am going.  I can’t believe it, but I am going. September 30th, with the Twitarded family. It will be insane. And you should come. Hit the Twitarded link for details.

Love, cupcakes, and lots of good “hey, it’s the weekend!” sex with your loved one.

Myg

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I’m sorry Stephenie

by Myg on April 13, 2010

I’m sorry, Stephenie Meyer.

I’ve trashed you here a few times for being a bad writer. I know, I’m late to a very big party.  And I also know that you have a gazillion dollars in the bank from the royalties, have probably had tea with Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart and throngs upon throngs of adoring followers who will buy and read anything you ever write. So you must not give a shit about what one sort of bitter woman in NJ would write, right?

Well, today I got to thinking about all that and how I would feel if it was me. Because, Stephenie Meyer, I am writing a fanfic for Twilight that is reaching epic proportions (okay, not saga length, but big for a fanfic) and I hope to get it out there in the world soon and am now realizing that people might actually read it, and what if somebody out there thinks I suck as a writer?

Because I’m telling you now, somebody will.

And if I read “she sucks!” even just one time, it won’t matter if thousands of people love it. I will obsess about that hate. Because that’s my nature.

Stephenie, if that’s your nature too, let me tell you how sorry I am. I really mean it.

Let me tell you something else.

I love Twilight. I read this at a point in my life when I really, desperately needed a fantasy to escape into so I could forget some very painful real life shit that was going down. I became absorbed, wholly, in your world.

Thank you for creating that world for us. I don’t care how flawed it is, honest. It brought me a lot of happiness and it inspired me to write over 100,000 words (and counting) of my own version of this tale. And my writing, I promise you, is not going to wow anyone with any kind of love of literature.

Today when Billy Burke stopped by (omfg, he didn’t, no, yes he did) Twitarded, (the most excellent Twilight related blog on the net), I realized that sometimes famous people read the shit that’s written about them in blogs. If I was famous, I know I would. And I would be bothered, too much, by the criticism.

I’m not saying it’s unfair, or somehow not right, or not useful to criticize icons of popular culture such as Twilight. I’m just saying that I don’t want to make you feel bad, Stephenie. And I know you will never in a million years read this, and even if you did, you would not likely give a shit. I would certainly hope not.

But just in case, I want you to know I’m sorry for the smack talk about your writing. And I want you to know that I thank you, a lot, for Twilight.

Love,

Myg

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Eclecticism, revisited

by Myg on March 11, 2010

Just wanted to remind you all that I am still a mother. Those two heart breakers above would be the proof, along with the growing crop of grays at my temples and the bags beneath my eyes. They are 13, approaching 14 months, and yeah. Big. Beautiful. New and wondrous every day. Magic in their own right.

What the hell do kids this age eat? Anyone? I mean besides Cheerios. My kids eat anything and everything, it’s not that, it’s just that I’m in a rut, and I don’t know how small I have to cut their food up anymore. I read other parents do crazy things like give their toddlers a whole strawberry. Madness. Mine get strawberries cut into Cheerio sized pieces. It’s time consuming as hell, and plus I just don’t want to be one of those parents cutting their son’s chicken fingers up for them when they’re in high school, you know? I’m kidding. My kids don’t eat chicken fingers. Unless they’re pureed.

We do give them whatever we eat ourselves, aside from things with nuts or sesame seeds because I don’t know, everybody says if you feed a child a peanut before they’re 23 years old they’ll turn to stone. Or something incredibly scary like that. Yes, allergies. My understanding is that all the research on allergies now says that waiting to introduce foods doesn’t do shit. I find more and more I don’t trust a damned thing doctors tell us to do, but I’m not paranoid. Much.

On the fanfic all I can tell you is I didn’t finish it on 2/26, like I promised. I did hit the 50,000 word mark by then, but it wasn’t done. I finished it, or so I thought, last week at around 80,000 words, but then the ending wasn’t quite right, so I had to go add another chapter. Now I’m doing a once-through read, and then I think it may find a home somewhere in Twilblog world. I am not going to post the damned thing to fanfic.net because for some reason they just don’t like pr0n there anymore, and my fanfic has some parts to it that are for 18+ eyes and sensibilities. Really, it’s written for that intensely interesting class of Twilight fans who are women over 30, of which I am a member.

Did I tell you that I am a Twilight fan? It’s their fault.  I don’t know how this could be, because the writing is fucking horrible, I’m sorry. The stories are fairly lame as well. And you know what? The characters can suck it, as well, with the exception of Edward Cullen, who is largely written like a tool, but who has so much potential you could write about him forever and ever and ever. Poor Robert Pattinson. He’ll never be rid of the Edward Cullen aura. Cedric who?

On the new Eclipse trailer, I don’t want to be a wench, but I am really sort of dreading the movie. That’s because a) the book was fucking horrible and b) the trailer points to the fact that 1. the book is lame as shit and 2. there is far, far too much murmuring by the characters. Watch that trailer and all you can think is, what the hell is wrong with Edward and Jacob? These guys fucking murmur every line in the damned movie trailer, and I sure as shit hope they don’t murmur their asses all the way through Eclipse.

Damn you straight to hell, Stephenie Meyer.

We played another show at Maxwell’s in Hoboken (Jersey for those of you who aren’t from around here) and it kicked ass. I’m not saying we kicked ass, but I am saying it kicked ass. It was really great to be on the Maxwell’s stage again. First time in 8 years ftw. I don’t know what any of it means in terms of some kind of musical future, only that the future looms large and we’re stepping forward into it.

Other things in life are really ass kicking these days. I’ll talk more about that later. Trust me, you can wait.

My birthday is Sunday. If anyone would like to send me large sums of cash, now is as good a time as any.

And on that note.

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Well, this is embarrassing.

by Myg on February 11, 2010

So, I would have a lot to tell you about what’s been going on since the boys turned 1, but that would require that I actually be somewhat coherent and observant and present in my own life, and that’s just not been the case.

Since January 26, four days after their birthday, I’ve been obsessively writing something that was starting out as a silly story about a certain teen saga, and it has sort of turned into a novel in progress. And now I am really mad at myself that I didn’t just write an all original novel with all original characters that I can sell and instead had to borrow some heavily used and abused characters from someone who, let’s face it, can’t even fucking write. Lesson learned.

This thing has a drop dead date. I’m going to have a first draft done by 2/26 and I’m not going to dedicate the time to do a rewrite. I can’t allow it. Instead I’m allowing myself to make the story go from one end to the other just to prove to myself I can actually write a novel.

I have always, forever and ever, wanted to write a novel. I knew that I could write. Not just blog posts, song lyrics, progress notes or training curriculum, either. I can actually write fiction. I am no literary marvel (that would be Mr. Myg/Wisermom/aka Alex).  But I can put words together in a way that might interest you and motivate you to keep reading. I just haven’t done it in a very long time.

Writing this thing (oh Jesus, let’s just call it what it is already, a fucking fan fic) is embarrassing in its all encompassing hold on my attention. My poor children. I am near them when I am with them, but all the while my mind is working on this scene or that plot detail or this exchange. If I was writing something not a fucking fan fic, this might seem not so bad, like, I was really absorbed in the creation of something worthwhile. As it is, it feels a lot like sneaking twinkies into your lunch bag, eating them at your desk with the door closed, hoping nobody comes in to chat.

It would make no difference if I wasn’t busy, you see. But I. Am. So. Fucking. Busy. I have two babies. I have a job with work that has to get done. I am training to become faculty at University of Phoenix. I have a show to play on March 5th. And yet, my mind is always, always working on this fucking thing.

Such it is when you’re damned with obsessive/compulsive traits. So pass the crack pipe. It’s no sleep until 2/26.

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