Weird, Weird, Weird Year

It's been a weird start to the year. 

I know the past few years have been weird anyway, but I had expected that to have ended by now. On top of that, there have been a few events and circumstances which have created a weird vibe.

I have had a few moments where I have seen through the veil, seen a few things for what they are, and unburdened myself of a few things.  And that has been healthy. I've also taken on a few healthier aspects, made some decisions, and changed directions with some stuff. And don't read too much into any of this. None of this is huge, life-changing stuff, just a few minor things which have eased my mind.

I am awaiting some news, hopefully good news, which I will share when I can. Something which will feel good and validate some work I've done and decisions I've made. And even if the news isn't what I hope, that's fine. Disappointing, but understandable.

Ah yes, a completely cryptic post in which I haven't really said anything. And I know if I read this in a couple of years time, I'll have absolutely no idea about what I am referring to.

Oh dear. At least it will be a mystery to keep me entertained.

Ideas A Plenty.

I've had a good run of ideas for short stories recently. Some are merely snippets, some are almost fully fleshed. All have gone into my writing journal.

I have no idea how many will end up getting used. I never do. And some that do get used end up being more of an inspiration, or a launching point, rather than the original idea. A piece of conversation I overheard on a plane (and noted because it was so ludicrous) will get used, but even the original conversants would never recognise it. It was idea of the silliness of the conversation I loved, even though the participants were earnest and serious.

One of the ideas has already developed into a few paragraphs, and I'm enjoying writing this one. It's a comedy piece based on an idea I originally had about a year ago, but mashed it with another idea I had a week ago. And they fit so well together it is as if it was meant to be.

Writing comedy is difficult. Humour is so subjective that you can never be really sure how well it is working until a range of readers tell you. I've been fortunate in my attempts, and my biggest sale was a humorous piece which garnered good reviews, comments and even a mention in a recommended reading list.

But the main thing is the ideas have been flowing, and I'm working at whipping them into shape and pushing them out into the wild world.

Wish me luck.

Return Of The Notebook.

A couple of years ago I started carrying a notebook with me. From time to time I'd write descriptions of things I saw, interactions between people, quotes, signs, and story ideas. I figured it might be a good resource to keep, a way to get my brain working creatively. For a while I kept it up to date. Sometimes I felt like I was forcing words onto the page, and I was concerned it might read as pretentious - an insincere effort to describe things that weren't as interesting as I'd imagined (or pretended) them to be.

And so it fell by the wayside. Occasionally I'd think of something I'd seen, reach for the book and write it down. But the entries were sporadic at best. Months would go by without any new words in there. And then, a few weeks ago, I picked up the notebook and read through it. And I enjoyed what I read.

While the notes are not intended to be shared, I needn't have worried about how they came across. I enjoyed them, they relit memories of events. I recalled forgotten incidents and moments. And best of all, I found a few story ideas congeal in my brain.

So I've started writing notes again. I don't keep it with me all the time - it's a little impractical, but I'm using it regularly and the notebook is filling up.

I have Numbers Two and Three all lined up and ready to go.

Openings And Scraps.

The weekend was hot. 36c both days. Fortunately for me I was down the coast with my wife.

The foreshore was lovely. Crowded later, but we went out before it got too warm while there weren't too many people on the sands. The weekend was brilliant. I drank cold beer, ate prawn pasta, nachos, read a lot and generally just relaxed. Then to finish it all off, breakfast this morning was amazing.

So I was playing some music as we drove down there. My wife made some comments about the song, and bam - I wrote the opening to a story in my head.

An idea is not a story. Nor is an opening. And I had nothing more.  But I started playing with what I'd written, wrote a few more lines before I needed to know where I was going next. I opened a few files, a few unfinished scraps I'd written in the past, things I thought I might use one day, or simple writing exercises I'd done for fun. One of these leaped out at me, and as soon as I collided it with my new opening, I knew they would work together.

Within the hour I had the entire story outlined and started writing it.

I have 2,000 words of this beast done. I have a good feeling about it. I'm excited by it.

A productive weekend, a relaxing weekend. I like those.

Ideas From The Backburner.

I've recently written a few stories for which I had little more than an idea that had been floating around for a while.

Of course an idea alone does not equal a story. It's merely the launching point. But I thought these were pretty good ones, and I dutifully wrote them in my notebook several years ago. At the time I didn't run with them for two reasons. Firstly, because I didn't know what to do with them, how to develop them into something more. Secondly, I didn't feel I had the skill to pull off the descriptions I knew these particular ideas would require.

But a few weeks ago I knew I had to ignore both those self doubts and just start writing them. And I did write them. And I finished them. And I'm really happy with how they turned out.

I usually have a rough idea of where a story is going to go, and tend to work within that loose framework. From time to time they take me in unexpected directions. And this is what happened with both these stories. It was actually rather exciting to see where they went, because in at least one of them I had nothing beyond the original idea and the first paragraph of setting and character.

These are good stories. They will sell. You will see them.

But now they're settling, before I go back in a week or two and give them the second draft they so long for.

Letting Go.

I keep a list of story ideas. Sometimes there's a whole paragraph, other times there are only a few words. I have a list of titles I think may fit somewhere along the line, a few quotes I've seen that may come in useful. Even stories I've commenced that have nowhere to go yet.

In the past few weeks I've been trawling back through this list, grabbing some of the ideas and writing the stories. It's a wonderful feeling when I finish a piece that had its genesis some time ago and has since been kicking around in the back of my brain.

When I sit to write I have some idea where I'm heading, but I don't usually end up exactly where I thought I was going, or I take unexpected detours along the way to where I was going. And the end result is always better than my original thoughts.

I learned some time ago to let the story go where it wants, to let it have its head.

And it works. Whether it's your own subconscious taking over, because it has a better sense of what's needed than you do, or whether its just an element of randomnity, I don't know. And it doesn't really matter.

Learn to let go. It's something I've started doing, and thus far I've been thrilled with the results.

The Mystery Of Writing.

Nothing we do is as mysterious as we like to pretend.

I'm paraphrasing, because I can't remember the exact words. But it's close enough to something Amy Espeseth said at a writers' workshop I recently attended. It struck a chord with me because it's something I'd recently been thinking about anyway.

There are a number of writers who seem to play up the apparent spirituality of writing, speaking of muses who won't leave them be, words that seem to have been received from some ethereal place beyond our physical universe. Writers as alchemists, turning the 26 letters on a keyboard into something much more. And I suppose non-writers may see writing that way. "Where do you get your ideas?" is an extremely common question.

Of course I get ideas and inspiration, and I make notes as soon as I can. And if they won't leave my mind, then I push them forward in the queue and start work on them.

Dean Wesley Smith offers a different approach. They're just ideas, just words, and he has hundreds of them. No pataphysical explanations, just a mind at work. I guess this is how I see it as well. When I don't have enough ideas for a particuler story, I make them. I create them. Over the past few years I've learned some exercises that help me do this.

But there are those times when I'm writing, when I'm in the 'zone' and the words just seem to pour out, and I wonder. Maybe, just maybe there is a muse watching out for me.

New Experiments In SciFi.

I recently had a long discussion with a poet who always carries a notebook and writes down what he sees.

We were talking about where ideas come from, and we found we had different approaches to our creative minds. I talked about how I asked 'what if' to situations and events, and he mentioned his ever present notebook. I spent a week or more thinking about it before I started keeping one handy and writing down snatches of conversations, descriptions of people, places, and events. Of course you can't be an obvious voyeur, or an eavesdropper, but it's surprising how much stuff I've started noticing.

OK, so my notes are a little self-conscious at the moment, and maybe I'm trying a bit hard and they appear pretentious. But I've already had a whole bunch of ideas from them. And I find that I'm remembering things I'd have otherwise forgotten.

I worked on a story yesterday, and even dragged out my notebook to use some dialogue I could rip off.

So far, so good.  Maybe one day I'll even be confident enough to post bits of my notebook here.

Ideas Into Stories.

People ask me where I get ideas from.

Ideas are plentiful. Everyone has them. What they don't have are stories.

As an example, I usually tell my students a story. A true one. At this point I start to smirk and laugh as thought it's hilarious.

"My wife asked me to get some milk on the way home last night. So I stopped at the supermarket, and went in and bought some."  Now I laugh as though I can't help myself. "And so I paid for it, and then drove home. Cool story, huh?"

They tell me it's not a story, and so we then discuss the reasons why. And they are the ones who come up with conflict/problem/difficulty overcoming these/resolution, etc.

An idea. A man walks into a pet store and buys an alien life-form. Cool. I might even use that at some point. But there's no story there - yet. It needs more.  What's going to happen with this alien pet? Type of food it needs? Size it will grow to? Not a pet but sentient?

Where's the problem and how is it resolved.

Sometimes you have to laminate a couple of ideas, extend them, play with them, exaggerate them, try them in different settings, and so on.

I have pages and pages of ideas jotted in my notebook. From time to time I peruse those pages, something clicks and I start creating a story.

You might have ideas. Do you have stories?

Much Writing To Be Done.

It's been a busy couple of weeks, here in the plush writing studio at Chateau Cameron.  Unfortunately little of it has actually been writing.

I've received a personal rejection for one that I had high hopes for, I'm sweating on a couple of others out there in the wide world, I've got a couple of rewrites that need doing and a whole swag of great ideas that need time.

Work has stepped up a gear or two in the past month, and at home I'm in the middle of renovations. It'll all be worth it in the end, but it's occupying much of my attention.

But no excuses. I simply have to write.

Write, write, write.

Can You Dig It?

It's been a busy week at Chateau Cameron. I've been kept busy by circumstances. It hasn't been a bad week, although nothing positive seems to have occured. A few rejections, a few plans that didn't come to fruition, a lottery ticket that didn't win.

Still, I have hopes for some of these negatives to turn around in the near future.

I'm a great believer in karma. The people who tend to abuse or cheat others will get caught out one day. And those of us who try to do the right thing? Well, I think good things await us.

Sounds like I've had a terrible week, huh?  No - just some ideas that have entered my consciousness, plans commenced and a spot of people watching.

And, of course, gardening.  Last year our vegetable harvest was fantastic. And I have high expectations for this coming season.

Karma. You really do reap what you sow.

Ideas All Around.

This week I actually had two people ask me that notorious question. Where do you get your ideas from?

I was, of course, tempted to use Harlan Ellison's famous answer. Tired of hearing the same question over and over, he declared that every week he sent $5 (or $10 or $25, depending on the source) to a little old lady in Schenectady, New York and in return she sent him a list of ideas. Everyone laughed, but apparently at the end of the session there was a queue of people asking for her address.

I even thought of stealing Nick Tchan's recent forum post that said flying monkeys delivered ideas to him on scraps of paper.

Or Theodore Sturgeon's statement that every evening he left a bowl of milk on his front porch, and in the morning the milk had gone and a list of ideas had been left.

Instead I told the truth, that I see them everywhere around me. And they're coming faster than I can write them. I keep a list of them, of course. Some of these gems may not get used for a long time, some of them may end up as a minor idea in a different story. Some of them many never find a home.

Yesterday, for instance, I saw a car being towed by a tow-truck. I started asking "What if?", dropping the event into a number of different scenarios, and had half a story unfolding before I'd even realised it.

As for Theodore Sturgeon's answer, I think he may have been joking. At least once he suffered writer's block, bereft of ideas, and so he wrote to Robert Heinlein.  Heinlein responded thus.

Check it out. It' a fabulous letter with everything from fully hatched ideas down to short, abstract thoughts.

Slowly Getting There

There's an upcoming themed anthology that I would very much love to be a part of.  The reading period closes next week, and so far I've only had the merest glimmer of an idea for a story that would suit.

This morning, while walking my dogs, my thoughts turned to a conversation I had with a couple of friends recently. We'd had a fabulous dinner, a few glasses of wine, and we were all very relaxed. The discussion turned to quantum mechanics and all things metaphysical. And then I recalled a conversation with an old girlfriend many, many years ago in which she told me of an experience she'd once had. A more complete story started to gel in my mind.

I returned home, threw some Bob Dylan on the CD player (Slow Train Coming seemed appropriate for a Sunday morning), and sat outside with a cup of coffee. And my mind went to work.

A good dose of The Beatles found its way into the story mix, a few more weird ideas, and suddenly I find myself with a plot.

I know what I'm doing today.

I've Got An Idea.

And so I return from two weeks in Sri Lanka, relaxed, recharged and ready to face the year.

I didn't get any writing done on holiday - I was far too busy doing things to sit down and write, but that doesn't meant I didn't have ideas and make lots of notes.

One of the things I get asked (like most other writers) is where I get my ideas from, and the answer to that is everywhere. I saw the poster for a film, and made a presumption as to what the film would be about. When I discovered that wasn't the case, I realised I had a story idea. Same with a short story I was reading. The narrative didn't go where I'd expected it to go, and so I made my own notes on my own idea.

Visiting another culture is a goldmine. Legends, people you meet and places you visit all ignite ideas in my head. And these days I carry a small notebook to write those ideas down.

I've heard people say that any idea you forget wasn't that good anyway. For a while I fell for that mistruth, and forgot a few plots that I believe were great ideas. (Fortunately, one of them recently popped back into my brain. It's safely written in my notebook now!)

Write them down, revisit them, let them bounce around in your brain and formulate. Look for the flaws, the holes, the  missing elements and allow the stories to set.

Then start writing.

Dreams.

I often have vivid dreams. Really clear ones that I remember easily. Colour, events and heaps of dialogue that I recall with little problem. And some of these dreams I've used in my writing. In fact I keep a notebook where I jot down ideas or thoughts, including dream thoughts, and draw upon later for stories.

Dreams, however, rarely make stories in and of themselves. They tend to lack a narrative, or a plot that will sustain a story. But they are excellent launching pads for ideas. Recently I had the experience of waking up with memories of a dream that was an almost fully formed story. It only needed a little tweaking to whip it into shape, and I'm finding it's a story I'm quite excited about.

A couple of years ago I started having lucid dreams - ones in which you realise you're dreaming. And then I took it that step further into lucid dreams that you can control. (Not all lucid dreams can be manipulated.) But it's fascinating when you are in a dream state and you start changing the  environs, or manipulating events, or introduce people into your 'world'.

One of the ideas I've had is to bring a writer, say Philip K. Dick, into my dream - and then discuss story ideas with him. Of course I recognise that this would simply be a projection of my subconscious, but what a fantastic way to access ideas from that level. Unfortunately, once you're in a lucid dream, you don't always remember what you were planning to do when you were awake. And so far, I haven't brought PKD in.

Still, I now know what it feels like to fly (I'd never had a flying dream until I created one), and I know what it feels like to play a guitar solo in a Deep Purple type band in front of 20,000 screaming fans.

One of these nights I may ask for trouble and try to bring in Hunter Thompson and PKD. Now that could be a nightmare.