Inspiration

I get inspiration in all kinds of ways.  For me, writing is like day dreaming on paper.  Only with a little more organization.

Most of my books, both the original idea and much of the follow through, have come when I am day dreaming.  I keep telling my family I really am working while I stare out the window.  They say they believe me, but I’m not sure I believe them.

When daydreaming doesn’t work – like when all my daydreams get taken over by, well, regular old daydreams – then I’m likely to resort to a game of What If.  What If works very, very well, so long as I have a kernel of an idea on which to latch for starters.

Although I’m not so much inspired by as influenced and rejuvenated by them, reading books has been a very helpful in getting me going again.  If I’m working on a Romantic Suspense and I read about a character burying a gun I might start wondering about ways in which to damage a gun and what will happen when someone tries to use a damaged gun and end up with the solution to the scene in Chapter 15 of my WIP.

Poetry and song lyrics can inspire me, but generally it only happens if I’m not looking for inspiration.

Being in particular places can inspire me.  I’ve trained myself to focus on writing while at my desk.  Now I can sit down in front of my computer with nothing but a FanLit challenge in front of me and make words appear.  It’s better if I don’t fly quite so much out of the either, but it’s nice to know I can do it.

The other three places that have been particularly good for coming up with something to write are the bathroom, while out walking, and bed.  The bathroom is great except for all the people pounding on the door and the way the tissue paper shreds under a pencil.  Walking is a bit of a problem because people tend to think I’m crazy when I start gesturing, crying, laughing, or talking to myself.  The best of the three is bed, except most of my ideas there end up being like the first chapter of Zackly Right.

Ideas are easy.  I get thousands more than I use, hundreds more than I bother to write down.  It’s making them real that’s hard.

.
Alice