Writing Wednesday: Finding Nirvana

For today's Writing Wednesday, I've decided to pull out a novel I started that will more than likely never see the light of day.  And PLEASE don't compare it to Mama Mia, I've already been told the plot is similar, though I've never seen the movie myself.  Without further ado, the opening paragraphs of Finding Nirvana.

      My name is Lanie and I’m a grunge addict.  Yes I’m well aware that it’s 2010, and grunge was so 1990’s, but it wasn’t really a choice, it was a way of life.  At times I felt like I was born a decade too late.  I would have totally fit in with the Seattle grunge scene, but that was my mom’s life, not mine.  So deep into that scene, she chose to name me Layne Veddar Cobain Cornell Miller.  Ridiculous I know, but she couldn’t make up her mind between her favorite singers from Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and Soundgarden, respectively.  I decided when I started school that I would go by Lanie.  It sounded more, well, like a girl.

       When it comes to my dad, things get a bit more complicated.  You see, I don’t really know who he is, well, I kind of do.  He could be one of three guys, the first being Kenny James.  He’s a totally smart way cool dude who manages a couple local bands, the most “famous” if you can call it that being Toke.  The second might be BJ Dubois, the drummer for Drop Dead Lead, and no I don’t know if that’s his real name, or if he took the initials just to be funny or clever, which he’s neither though he thinks he is.  He’s a bit socially retarded, but he’s nice, and not bad to look at.  The last contestant on “Who’s My Dad” is Doug “Spaz” Harris, singer of The Deceased.  If you knew Doug, you’d know exactly why they called him Spaz.  First of all, he’s got Tourettes, so he tenses up and blurts out the most insane funniest shit at times, also, when he’s on stage, he dances like he’s having a seizure.

     These three are pretty much interchangeable to me, all white, all in their late thirties, all still living life as if they’re rock stars.  I can’t blame them really, I’ve got the bug myself and it’s hard to shake, plus I’ve never heard of a twelve step program for this kind of addiction.  When you look at those guys, there’s not one distinct feature you could point out and say, “oh, he’s GOT to be Lanie’s dad.”  I mean, my eyes are blue like Kenny’s, I have full lips, like BJ, and I’m tall and thin like Spaz.  And I guess seventeen years ago my mother loved them all.  So there you go.

Muses

A lot of friends have mentioned their muses the last couple days, so I thought I would really sit and ponder where my motivation comes from.

I've always said that my craft mostly reflects life.  Sometimes I get story ideas from my own experiences, or base characters on people I know, myself included, but I need more than that.

The weather.  I know, it's crazy, but the weather has an effect on my mood.  I've always said I write better when I'm my most angsty, but thinking on it, that's not necessarily true.  I also write well when the sun is shining, it's just different.  I don't use as much emotion, I use more energy.  So this kind of yin yang weather thing is definitely a muse for me.

Music.  I cannot listen to music when I write.  I have to have things perfectly quiet and still.  However, music does pop into my head during certain scenes, and in my novel Mending Fences, and now in my WIP Finding Nirvana, music plays a major role.  When I was writing, the second novel I ever wrote, Dena Powers: The Trouble with Boys, there was one scene in which Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars kept popping into my head, urging me along.  Most the time the music is alternative or Indie because those songs just seem to speak to me.

My emotions.  As I said before, the weather directly effects my moods, and my different emotions help me to write in a variety of different ways.  I actually prefer to write when I'm miserable.  I just think I write better when I'm brooding, but there's something to be said for happiness too.

I suppose if my muse took form, this is what she'd look like (and do not make fun of my drawing).

So tell me, how does your muse take form?

The four songs that define the last four decades for me.

# 2 1990's

I was pretty much just becoming an adult. Coming off some hard times, which if you read my past blogs you know all about. I went through a few styles in that decade as I grew more mature, finished school, got married, had kids.

Mostly I wore jeans and t-shirts, mini skirts and sweaters.

I was watching Twin Peaks, Northern Exposure, and Ally McBeal.

I was still reading Stephen King, throw in Wally Lamb, Margaret Atwood, and Louise Erdrich.

My favorite movies were Pulp Fiction, Fight Club, Shawshank Redemption, Fargo, and Silence of the Lambs.

And Grunge was king, especially if you were from the Pacific Northwest. Ratty jeans, t-shirts, flannel shirts, and birkenstocks were daily attire. Bands like Mudhoney, Mother Love Bone, Alice and Chains, Soundgarden, Nirvana, and Screaming Trees were rocking stages all over Seattle. And of course Pearl Jam, who wrote the song that defined the 90's for me, Alive.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbhsYC4gKy4

This song is about a boy getting horrific news, then living through horrific events, but still being able to say I'm Alive. This song is important, and I think so many people could relate to the lyrics, and the music, and still can. I know the song meant a lot to me, as did the entire grunge music scene.

In 1999 I was 30 years old.

Thanks for reading
Kisses :*
Megan

Alive"

Son, she said, have I got a little story for you
What you thought was your daddy was nothin' but a...
While you were sittin' home alone at age thirteen
Your real daddy was dyin', sorry you didn't see him, but I'm glad we talked...
Oh I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey, I, I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey...oh...
Oh, she walks slowly, across a young man's room
She said I'm ready...for you
I can't remember anything to this very day
'Cept the look, the look...
Oh, you know where, now I can't see, I just stare...
I, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Hey I, boy, I'm still alive
Hey I, I, I, I'm still alive, yeah
Ooh yeah...yeah yeah yeah...oh...oh...
Is something wrong, she said
Well of course there is
You're still alive, she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be
Is that the question
And if so...if so...who answers...who answers...
I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Yeah I, ooh, I'm still alive
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah