Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

“I always start out with an idea, even a boring idea, that becomes a question I don’t have answers to.” - Toni Morrison 

Where do you get your ideas? I’ve been told that authors don’t like to be asked that question. I’ve heard various reasons, such as it’s difficult to answer or that the answer is so very obvious.

I’ve never really had a problem with coming up with story ideas in general. I always have lots of ideas running around in my head. I think about them a lot. I hardly ever finish anything though. There are various reasons for this. Finding the time to write regularly is a big one. But the main reason is I’m not sure where to go with the idea, where to take the story, or how to end the story. So I’m always interested in hearing what authors have to say about the writing process.

Harlan Ellison said that he got his ideas from Poughkeepsie. He also said Schenectady. Cities in New York. He would then add that there was an idea service there that would send him ideas every week for a fee. I laughed along with everyone else when I first read this in my younger days.  Now that I'm trying to write regularly I think the answer isn’t helpful. Oh, it’s still funny, it’s just not very helpful. 

Recently I came across Neil Gaiman’s answer to this question. First he said that if you ask an author where they get their ideas he’ll probably mock you. I laughed at this because I immediately thought of Harlan Ellison. Neil Gaiman says that he used to give the mocking answers until he was talking to a group of seven and eight year olds. After one kid asked him where he got his ideas from, he thought he’d better give a straight answer. His answer was that ideas come from two things coming together. Confluence. Things that you’ve seen a thousand times but you look at them in a slightly different way. I found his answer helpful. 

Patricia Highsmith, in her book Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction, has a chapter on ideas. She first talks about the germ of an idea. This can come from observation or just a “brief sequence of action that pops into the head out of nowhere, from nothing seen or heard.” That second explanation describes my experience with ideas really well. I’ve lost count how many times ideas have popped into my head as I walked home from my train station to my apartment in the evenings. Something about after working my day job puts me into a place where my mind can wander, can explore, and see connections that I could not see during the day. It never happens in the morning as I walk to the train station. I am not a morning person. 

When I try too hard to think of an idea, nothing happens. On the other hand, when I’m not consciously thinking, “I need to think of an idea!”, an idea will suddenly pop into my head. Then I’ll start wondering about  what would happen next. It just happens. Sometimes the idea gets fleshed out a little further right away, but usually I’ll have to revisit the idea a few times. I’ll keep wondering about what would happen next. It’s like a game. It’s fun. But it doesn’t usually lead to a finished story. 

Patricia Highsmith adds that stories don’t always develop this way. They sometimes need a “second idea to get them going.” When I read this I immediately thought of Neil Gaiman’s advice about confluence. Two things coming together. Like Neil Gaiman’s advice, I found her advice quite helpful.

I’ve learned that thinking about a story isn’t enough. I need to sit down and write. It leads to more ideas. The act of getting the words down leads me into new directions. Ideas I would not have thought of by just thinking about them. New dialogue, new scenes, new directions, new background on characters, and even new characters. I am so fascinated by this process. I absolutely love it. 

In the end it’s different for every writer. Speaking for myself I’m enjoying this journey I’m on. As challenging as it is, I now know that I need to sit down and write more. I need to work harder to find the time to write. Thinking and imagining is the easy part. I’ve done it most of my life.

Less daydreaming, more work.  Wish me luck.

A Letter to Lawrence Block

“You can always fix bad pages. You can’t fix no pages. So write. Just write. Try to turn off that voice of doom that paralyzes you.“ - Harlan Coben

I recently participated in a virtual writing workshop conducted by one of my favorite authors, Lawrence Block. At the end of the workshop he asked for feedback. Here’s what I sent him.

Dear Mr. Block,

Thank you for conducting the Virtual Writing Workshop. It was an enjoyable experience. 

I’ve been interested in writing for years. I never do enough of it. Your workshop got me writing for two hours twice a week. It felt good. 

I am currently living and working in Japan. Since I’m in a different time zone I wasn’t writing at the same time as everyone else. I did the Tuesday assignments later in the week and I did the Thursday assignments on weekends. I felt very motivated after completing each assignment and always looked forward to the next assignment. I got behind at one point, but it wasn’t too difficult to catch up. I was able to keep to my schedule for the last few exercises. 

The assignments were clear. I was able to jump right in. I liked the flow of each assignment and I liked that there was flexibility. The fifteen minute exercises were nice warm-ups. I found the breaks between sessions helpful.

At first I was doubtful that I would be able to write for an entire hour. One thing I have struggled with is my tendency to overthink things. I often second guess myself as I write. I’ve improved after reading a few books on writing but it’s still an issue. 

I gave it a try though. It kept me going knowing that as long as the pen was moving I was doing it right. Once I started I was able to go for the full hour with no negative thoughts getting in my way. That was motivating. I discovered that writing for an hour was not as intimidating as I first thought. The combination of setting a timer and not stopping was simple but effective. 

I also liked the tone of the emails. Laid back but with clear directions and clear possible outcomes. It also felt like we were in the same room and that you were speaking to me directly. 

I learned some things about writing, I learned some things about myself, and wrote a lot. I’m definitely interested in joining a similar workshop in the future. That is if I’m not too busy writing. 

Thank you so much. 

Sincerely,

Jim Reddy

Next: Ideas and where they come from.

What I Get Out of Writing and What I Hope to Get

“Very few writers know what they are doing until they’ve done it.” - Anne Lamott

What do I get out of writing?

When I’m writing the rest of the world drops away. For a time everything else is forgotten. I’m focused on getting the words down. When I’m working on a blog post I’m either learning new things about myself or I’m relearning old lessons forgotten. When I’m writing fiction I’m exploring a world and characters through the sentences and dialog that I get down on the page. It’s really, really fun.

When I’m writing, fear and self doubt drop away. I just go. I put the words down. Sometimes I’ll write the same sentence three or four times, each a different way. I know I’ll go back and pick the right one later. Thank you Ray Bradbury. Other times I’ll draw a line through the last sentence or two and go a different route. That’s confidence I didn’t have until I started writing regularly. You know, I didn’t even realize I had this confidence until I wrote that last line.

Now and then I get around to finishing something. Mostly blog posts. It’s a good feeling to finish something. 

What do I hope to get?

First, I want to finish things. I went from loving reading as a child to gaining an interest in writing as I got older. Over the years I’ve read a lot. The writing part has been shall we say, lacking. I have taken some steps. Starting this blog and finishing blog posts. Baby steps. The next step is finishing stories. I have plenty of ideas. Some are more fleshed out than others. I know which ones I should be concentrating on. I need to put in the time. 

Second, I want to get better. Over the years I’ve spent too much time thinking about writing and not enough time, you know, writing. I’ve known for a long time that you don’t get better without practice.  I’ve heard that particular advice from so many creators over the years. I’ve always nodded along in agreement with a serious look on my face.

But I didn’t write. There was always something else to distract me. Life of course. Sometimes something creative, like drawing, which I love and also don’t do enough of. More often it was my love of consuming fiction. Reading comics, reading books, watching TV shows and movies. I’m much better at limiting that now. Still, I don’t feel like it’s enough. But I have to say where I am now is an improvement. I have moved forward. 

So. Let’s review.

What do I get out of writing?  Pleasure. The discovery of new things. Confidence. The  sense of satisfaction when finishing something. 

What do I hope to get? I hope to become more focused. I hope to become more disciplined. I hope to become a better writer. 

Why write about this now? This post came about because of a writing workshop I’m currently taking. Author Lawrence Block was planning on holding a month long, twice a week writing workshop in Brooklyn, New York. He canceled it because of the current health crisis. On Twitter he asked if anyone would like to take it home. For free. I jumped at the chance and sent an email expressing my interest. So twice a week I get an assignment by email and I write.

“You must write. It’s not enough to start by thinking. You become a writer by writing.” - R. K. Narayan 

Richard the Writer

"Write what should not be forgotten." - Isabel Allende

When I was in high school, I carried around a blue three-ring notebook binder filled with lined notebook paper. It was standard procedure for most students. We took notes on the notebook paper in class and then inserted the pages into the notebook to review later.

Like most kids I carried my notebook binder and textbooks from class to class. Unlike most kids I had an extra book on top of the stack. Usually a science fiction or fantasy paperback. Sometimes a hardcover from the mail order Science Fiction Book Club. I was such a nerd. Still am.

One day I became friends with a guy named Richard. The exact reasons are lost to the fog of time, but probably because of my science fiction book carrying. He carried around a three-ringed notebook binder like all the other kids. I remember it being one of the denim blue ones, which was pretty common at the time. I think I had the same one.

When Richard and I first met he told me he was a writer. I thought that this was an unusual thing for a high school student to say. Then he opened his notebook. The first page was completely filled with his tiny handwriting in blue ink. Then he turned the page. The next two pages were also covered with lines of his handwriting. Then he flipped through more and more pages. They were all filled with his handwriting. I couldn’t disagree with him. He was a writer.

We talked about books and TV shows.  He told me about his stories. I don’t remember much of it. What I do remember is that he suggested we write. He had some cool ideas. 

We were both fans of lots of science fiction TV shows, including Space: 1999. He had an idea for a series based on one of the first season episodes, Another Time, Another Place. In this episode the characters enter a parallel universe in which some of the main characters have died and the rest  have settled on a new world. Richard even came up with Another Time, Another Place logo done in the style of the Space: 1999 logo. He suggested that we write episodes set in the parallel universe. I agreed but never did write anything. I just couldn’t think of any stories. The universe was nowhere near as interesting as Star Trek’s mirror universe. Another idea he had was for an original series about a psychic private eye. He came up with a story bible and said let’s write some stories. This time I actually wrote. I started a story but I didn’t get very far and never finished it. 

We never worked together on anything after that. Time moved on. He graduated the year before me and we lost touch. I’ve thought about him once in a while as the years have passed.

A  few years ago I found a website that listed all the students from my high school. Students are listed by graduation class. It was nostalgic seeing familiar names and pictures. It brought back a lot of memories. It also made me feel quite sad. In a section labeled “In Memory,” I discovered that Richard had passed away. The year that he passed away is listed as unknown. I tried looking him up online but haven’t been able to find any information. 

I have a couple of notebooks that I use as writing journals. One is a daily journal and the others are writing study journals. I usually use a blue pen. I’ve filled up quite a few pages. Sometimes when I look at my pages I think of Richard. 

Next: What I Get Out of Writing and What I Hope to Get

My Struggles With Creating: The High School Years

"If today was not a productive day don't beat yourself to death over it. Wake up tomorrow and start from there. Try it. It works. We can't go back. We can only go forward. Let's go!" - Terry McMillan I wrote my first real short story in high school. Before that I had written some stories in grade school but they were no more than one page. This story was longer. It was for an assignment in an English class. I only remember the basics of the story. A warrior in an icy landscape enters a cave, descends into an underground complex, fights yeti like creatures, and retrieves an ancient sword. I had seen The Time Machine (1960) a few years before on TV and I had recently read the first Conan the Barbarian paperback.  

The story was written in pen on ruled notebook paper. As I wrote I made some edits by crossing out certain lines and adding in my revisions. We got our stories back with notes from the teacher in red ink. Next to one of my edits she had written something like “well done.” To this day I can still remember seeing the teacher’s note and how positive it made me feel.

You would think that would have motivated me to keep writing. Instead I wrote on and off for the rest of high school. A little of this, a little of that. Nothing consistent.The writing I did do was mostly influenced by television and movies. 

I wrote a movie review for an English class newspaper. Everyone was assigned a different task. Some students wrote articles, some students edited. I wrote a review for one of the Star Trek movies. The original series is a big childhood favorite of mine. As a huge fan I got a little carried away with my glowing praise. My student editor’s feedback was to tone it down. I saw her point and re-wrote it. I think the second version was much better. I rewatched the movie soon after. The second viewing really hit it home that I had overdone it in my first draft. It was a learning experience.

Another one of my favorite childhood television shows is Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. One of the local stations started showing it in the afternoon after school. I was also reading Starlog magazine religiously at the time. I devoured the TV show episode guides they often included. I got it into my head to plan a Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea reboot. I wrote a short series bible and came up fifteen to twenty episode ideas. I wrote a brief summary and a title for each episode. I never did write any of the episodes though. 

One time I got serious. Briefly. I joined an English club that published a school literary magazine. I went to a few meetings but never wrote anything. 

During my senior year I took a typing class. One day instead of typing out our assignment, I started a short story. I wrote about a page before I stopped and worked on the assignment. I finished it and turned it in. Soon after the teacher walked back to my desk, held out my assignment, and with a puzzled look asked, “What is this?” I had turned in my story page instead of the assignment. I grabbed the page, mumbled an apology, and handed her the actual assignment. I didn't finish the story. 

I eventually did finish another story. Some fan fiction. A Doctor Who short story. I may have been in university at this point. My memory is hazy here. 

I’ve often thought about that first short story of mine. I wish I still had it. I’d like to read it and see what I was trying to do. Well, it’s gone now. I’ll never be able to read that particular story again. But I can write a new one. So that’s what I’m going to do. 

Next: Richard the Writer 

A New Year

“Writing is what I love to do. It can be maddening, frustrating, and the genesis for all sorts of unhealthy behavior (as well as grand plots of procrastination), but I cherish all elements of it. A part of your brain is permanently moored in the storytelling harbor. It affects how you view the world and indeed how you experience everything in that world. It demands complete devotion.” - David Baldacci

I started this blog one year ago. This is my twenty-fifth post. Feels good. I’d like to think that I’ve learned a few things. 

I’ve learned that it’s good to have some kind of schedule even if you can’t always stick to it. My plan was to post at least twice a month. That’s been a challenge. Having a schedule gets me writing regularly though. I think I’ve written more in the last year than I have in the last ten years.

I’m more confident. I can get my jumbled thoughts down without as much hesitation as before. I can write a mess of stuff and be okay with it. I know that I’ll get back to it later and edit the heck out of it. I’ll mold it into something that makes more sense than it did when it first poured out of my brain.

I’ve often read that writers feel stress when they don’t write. I’ve been interested in writing for a long time but I never felt any stress when away from the keyboard. Didn’t bother me at all. Didn’t get much done either. 

I’m at the point now where I get antsy if I haven’t written in awhile. What changed? 

Starting this blog helped me turn my interest in writing into a habit of writing. I look forward to getting my thoughts down. I look forward to making sense of what I’ve written down. I find joy in discovering new things as I’m getting the words out. Not just in my blog posts, but also in the fiction that I’m working on.

My goal this year is to finish things. Finish the writing course that I started last year. Finish short stories. 

We learn by doing. 

Next: My Struggles With Creating: The High School Years

Choices

“Something that you feel will find its own form.” - Jack Kerouac 

It’s funny how some memories can be really fuzzy, but others are as sharp as the day they happened. They stay sharp no matter how much time has passed. 

When I was in seventh grade, the other students in my class and I were handed some documents to take home to our parents. The documents explained what classes we would be taking the next year when we entered high school. English, science, history, math, etc. It also explained that we had to choose the final course, an elective. I wanted to take German but that wasn't offered until ninth grade. I scanned the list of classes and my eyes only saw one choice. I picked up my pencil and checked off art.

It was an easy choice. I was drawing all the time. I couldn’t remember a time that I hadn't been drawing. I had drawn my favorite toys, the starship Enterprise, the submarine Seaview, Christmas decorations, a bird skull, tigers, and the adventures of an alien with cheese in his name. Picking art as an elective in high school seemed like a natural progression.

When I got home I excitedly showed the papers to my parents. My father scanned the documents. He saw that I had checked art. He calmly erased it and changed it to shop class aka industrial arts. Working with wood and metal. I told him I’d rather take art. He told me that he had taken shop in high school and that’s what I would be taking. End of discussion. 

Except it really wasn’t a discussion. No one asked me what I wanted to take. No one asked me if it was okay to change my choice. It was just changed. To this day I still wonder why I didn’t speak up more or throw a tantrum or something.

So I wound up taking shop. I worked with metal but don’t remember finishing anything. I made a pretty nice spice rack out of wood. It was on the kitchen wall for a lot of years until my parents moved into a new house. Not sure what happened to it after that. 

During high school I lost interest in drawing. Instead of creating I started consuming. My interests turned to reading science fiction and fantasy, watching TV, and reading comic books. I devoured every issue of Starlog magazine. I flirted with writing a couple of times but I kept getting distracted. 

Fast forward to one day in twelfth grade, my senior year. Last class of the day. We were goofing around before the bell rang. One of my friends was drawing on the chalkboard. His drawing covered most of the board. Dragons, castles, and warriors. Suddenly I was thrown back to the day that my father changed my elective from art to shop. 

I hadn’t thought of that day in five years. I felt an overwhelming sense of regret wash over me. Regret for not speaking up. Regret for not taking art classes all through high school. But I also felt something else. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was a tiny spark. Something that I hadn’t felt in awhile. It was back. The urge to create.

Next: A New Year