Synchronous Rotation: Always Facing
Obscenely small Prologue and outrageously long A/N:
A/N about the playlist:
Usually in my A/Ns I tend to ramble about how I was feeling as I was writing, plot decisions, fun facts, blah, blah, blah. But for your reading pleasure, I will do something different (mostly because otherwise every A/N would be 'Oh God, what have I DONE! I've just written a 45,000 word TWILIGHT FANFIC' etc)
And my something different is….a PLAYLIST (dun dun DUN) That is RIGHT, I have taken on the great art, laid down by our foremother Stephanie Meyer and made a playlist for my inner Twitard (who is rapidly becoming outer…)
Now my playlist is a bit different from Smeyer's because I can't listen to lyrics while writing (as she apparently can) My playlist for every single, individual, incredible, masterpiece I write is the same. It involves about 100 light piano songs performed and composed between George Winston, Kevin Kern, and Jim Brickman (who is my writing deity). So making playlists is not really my thing, because they would probably be the most boring-est thing to ever peruse, ever.
So my playlist was composed outside of writing and, really, has little to do with my fanfic proper. It's more a playlist of songs I think fit Twilight or New Moon Canon (I kept it between those two since my fanfic doesn't move outside of them) Each chapter will feature a different song, which may or may not have any relevance to the chapter, though I will try. And I will give a very brief explanation for why that song is relevant to Twilight. And by short I mean TITLE, ARTIST, RANDOM LYRIC, PAIRING (and most of the pairings tend to be Edward/Bella, maybe the music industry was made for their dysfunctional relationship?) Not all the songs choices are completely serious, but I'm sure you can figure that out.
But for the Prologue I give you a favorite Jim Brickman of mine; Timeless.
It was only a matter of time.
And for him, time was never a matter. Days were meaningless, months a blur, years only fragile memories. A century passed like a dream only half-remembered, but then she was there. She was there.
And time mattered again.
