Twilight Summer

It's official: I am a Twilight addict.



I know. This is probably not the groundbreaking admission I think it is, considering the Twilight books have been out for so long they've already started taping the third movie in Vancouver, and almost everyone has already read the entire saga. (A bonus for me; I don't have to shell out for hardcover.) But I have an excuse: over the past few years, I have been a little busy, what with having two kids and writing one and a half books and a slew of freelance articles, while trying to have a life and make sure the house doesn't disappear under a layer of filth. Thus, I haven't had much time to read. (Which is profoundly sad. Almost as sad as falling in love with a painfully beautiful vampire you can never be with. Because I really love to read.)

Having a life is going to have to wait, though. For the next month or so, I'll be neglecting my domestic duties (more than usual) and staying up far later than I should reading the next three books in the saga. (Which is as it should be. Vampire books should always be read at night, while everyone else in the house is asleep, and the house is full of dust and cobwebs, yes?)

I must know what happens with Edward and Bella. (Oh, and I totally get the Robert Pattinson thing now. When I first started seeing pictures of him in the tabloids, I alternated between thinking, "What on earth is Twilight?" and "Hmmm, that guy is kind of odd looking. What's the appeal?" But now I understand. Were I not happily married, I, too, would meet him for dangerous trysts in dark forests. I am NOT on Team Jacob. No way, no day.)

Edward, Edward, rah rah rah!

Ahem. Sorry.

As a writer, it's difficult for me not to read a book and edit it in my head as I go along. I'm sure that sounds terribly literary-snobbish of me, and I don't mean to. I know I'm no Martha Gellhorn (or John Irving, or Audrey Niffeneger, or Emily Giffin for that matter). However, I have been writing for newspapers and magazines for almost a decade, so editing and rewriting are as natural to me as breathing. (Ooh, or if I were a vampire, I might say as natural to me as craving human blood! Shiver.)


When I can become so absorbed in a story I forget all about critiquing the writing and plot, or thinking in a high minded way, "Ugh! I could do better than this!", that's big.

That's what's happening to me with Twilight. I know it's not Pulitzer Prize-winning stuff, but who cares? It's a bloody good story - pun intended. I feel like Meyer has succeeded in capturing every fantasy I ever had as a ripped jean, Doc Marten-wearing, Jane's Addiction and Cure-obsessed teenage girl.

.

Of course, now that I have a new obsession, I've spent a great deal of time Googling Twilight and catching up on what I've been missing the past few years. And I've been reading about Stephenie Meyer, the Twilight author. I especially liked this section of the Twilight website, where she does a Q&A.

http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/twilight.html


I once heard another writer critique Meyer, saying she's an average writer who doesn't deserve the fame she's enjoying. I strongly disagree. Anyone can have a great idea, but actually writing a book is hard. Writing a book while taking care of kids is quite another matter. Writing a bestseller that becomes an international phenomenon ... I'm in awe.


Go Stephenie! Rah rah rah!

I'd love to write more, but I have to go now. Edward is waiting for me. Swoon.

xoMarissa

Tell Me a Story

I'm back from the wilds of Muskoka. And boy, was it a long drive.

On the way home, my husband screeched to a stop on the 404, where we sat throwing snacks into the back seat and singing to the kids at the top of our lungs as we waited for the gridlock to clear. "I hate driving," he said. "I hate it. Let's get rid of the car. Let's never drive again." Which would be nice, for lots of reasons. And also not nice, for lots of other reasons. (Having to take the bus when we want to go to Muskoka, for one.)

On the way up north, however, despite the fact that it took five plus hours when it should have taken three and we got lost a mere ten minutes away from our destination and drove in circles for an hour, we did, as a family, experience a brief time of calm solidarity. It came in the form of Stuart McLean.

We'd forgotten our iPod adaptor so we had to listen to the radio. (Gasp. I know. A friend forgot his iPod enroute to the same cottage and turned around and drove all the way back to the city to get it, rather than suffer through hours of long weekend traffic while forced to listen to DJ drivel and ads. He got to the cottage around midnight, but he was happy.)

I had my secret weapon, though: CBC Radio 2. It used to just be classical, but now they have the contemporary urban (I don't know what that means but I like it) Live Drive in the morning with Tom Allen, and in the afternoon, after the classical sojourn, it's Rich Terfry (by night, he's contemporary urban rapper/musician Buck 65 and I think he's a great DJ. He plays lots of funky, folksy, rootsy, rocky, and cool-in-general-music, and also, he's funny, in an unassuming way. When introducing Haydn's "Let's Break Up" last week, he said, "This is a breakup song. But you can dance to it. If you know what I mean." I don't know why I found that so endearing.)

But when I clicked to 94.1 it wasn't Tom or Rich. It was Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe hour. My husband rolled his eyes, but really, it was either McLean, BTO on Q107, or Nickleback on every other station.

In his halting voice - there's something about the way McLean talks that makes you want to listen in rapt silence (or, in my husband's case, change the channel immediately) - he discussed a man from Texas he'd learned of who had apparently never been on vacation in his life and, for his first ever road trip, decided to go to Montreal with a pal to see McLean live. What a wildman.

Wilder still, McLean's plan was to phone this man and surprise him on live radio. Ooooh, crazy. But as hokey as it was - and believe you me, it was as hokey as they come - the segment was cute. The Texan man - Don - was beside himself. His day, if not his life, had obviously been made. And when Stuart informed Don that, should he ever decide to drive thousands of miles to Canada again to see a Vinyl Cafe show, the tickets would be on the house, I thought the old Texan was going to cry.

Everyone else on the highway look panicked and pissed off, but not us - we were listening to McLean and smiling.

Then McLean told one of his Vinyl Cafe stories. (The Vinyl Cafe is what he's famous for - he tells stories about bumbling Dave, the owner of a second hand record store. The motto of Dave's store, and the entire show, is "We may not be big but we're small". That sums it up well. Hokey, pokey, and totally adorable.)

The story was called Cat in the Car, and was a rather apropos family road trip tale.

The kids stopped crying and listened in silence as the cat hid in the car and scratched at Dave's ankles all the way to Tobermory and beyond. At intervals, Maia giggled and cooed, Joseph laughed and said, "That's silly!" (when the family took a wrong turn and ended up in a parade) and my husband stopped swearing under his breath at passing motorists. Who doesn't like being told a story? It's reminiscent of cozy bedtime and evenings or afternoons spent snuggled on an adult's lap, just listening. And what better way to suffer through a traffic jam than by becoming absorbed in a funny tale which serves no purpose other than to warm the heart and entertain?

As far as road trips with traffic and toddlers go, it was a nirvana moment. By the end of the story, both children had fallen asleep and Joe and I were calm.

The traffic was still there, though. While we weren't paying attention it had regrouped and intensified.

And we still had three more hours ahead of us.

I'm not saying things didn't get hairy again, I'm just saying our Vinyl Cafe break was a brief moment of calm solidarity.

I think I might need to buy a Vinyl Cafe CD for our next family road trip.
Either that or sell the car and never go anywhere ever again.

Happy summer, everyone! Drive carefully!

xo Marissa