Coming Up Blank

The wonderful thing about writing is that you can always make something out of nothing. It really is the original perpetual motion machine!

If you have a bad day, or a crap interaction, it immediately becomes fodder for your work. Inane conversations on the bus become a lesson in realistic dialogue. Annoying health problems or injuries suddenly manifest in your character and increase the depth of characterisation.

Today I was really stuck for something to blog about, then I realised I could blog about the fact I could not blog about something:)

All writers seem to approach their work from a different angle, and be inspired by different things. So what to do when you come up blank?

Some writers are inspired by natural settings, by the feeling of the landscape itself. I know for myself, some very weird characters and magical ideas can emerge from a quiet natural landscape, especially during storms and at twilight. At the very least it injects some reality into descriptions of scenery and setting.

Others are driven by the ideas themselves (this is very true for me). I can get inspired by interesting non-fiction, good books, films, and other weird ideas or what-ifs that occur to me in my more wistful moments.

Another thing that often gets me going is to plot out maps and put together drawings of the cities where the story takes place. Others might paint characters (I am total crap at drawing) or spend time imagining the settings of the story to get enthused. You can look for movies, books, pieces of music or art that inspire you for the piece you are writing.

I know many writers who write to music. Many take it even further than this - one writer friend of mine has collections of music for different types of scene. If there is an action scene coming up he puts all his 'action' CDs into the player.

Of course to be creative, you also need enough sleep (a challenge for me I can tell you) and to be in good frame of mind. The quality of your food, the amount of rest you get. Health is often neglected by writers, but has a huge impact energy levels. What do you do for stress reduction? That's important as well. How about exercise? Small amounts of low impact activity have been well demonstrated to have large positive effects. Walk the dog.

What do you do when you look for inspiration? Or do you subscribe to the notorious Idea of the Month Club?

Thoughts on Inspiration

Last March I made a trip to Wichita, KS for my cousin's 90th birthday. On the way home, I was struck by the number of trees in the fields lining I-35 through Oklahoma that had been broken by the heavy snows the region suffered that winter. These limbs were scattered and strewn, sometimes almost as if by pattern and other times as if tossed into the wind by a giant hand. Tops of trees were lopped off, looking like an artificial Christmas tree without the tip third. There was a stretch that had my imagination running to thoughts of giants -- or giant alien machines -- walking through the area, smashing the trees like insignificant bugs.

I made the trip to Wichita again Friday, returning home last night. This time it was for my cousin's funeral. She fell at home last week and broke her hip. Of course, being my cousin and an ever practical person, after she fell, she lay there for awhile. Then, knowing she might not be back to the house for awhile, she managed to get to the bathroom where she put on lipstick, brushed her hair and then "did a little pick up" of the house -- all before calling for help.

As I sat in church yesterday morning listening to her priest give one of the most personal eulogies I've heard in a long time, I couldn't help but think about how much Clarice inspired me. I blogged about it some earlier this week at the Naked Truth, but it goes so much further. Clarice was a woman who always seemed to know what your deepest desire was and encouraged you -- either to have the strength to pursue it or the discipline to give it up if it was something you shouldn't be doing. When she realized I wanted to write, and she did so long before I really knew it, I was told about my great-great-grandfather who edited newspapers in Colorado and Kansas. There was my great-uncle Jack who was the youngest linotype operator in the country. And it went on from there. When I finally admitted I was writing, Clarice dug out one of her most prized possessions and gave it to me -- her father's play, typed painstakingly on an old standard typewriter in the 1930's. She never let me give it back, telling me to keep it and pass it on when it would help someone else.

So, coming home down I-35 yesterday, seeing some of those same trees I'd blogged about here back in March, I once more started thinking about those who have been there for us, encouraging us even when we've been afraid to tell people we're -- gasp -- writers. Clarice was always my first cheerleader, always there to listen and encourage. But there have been others over the years. Mrs. Winslow, my seventh grade English teacher who, much to my horror, not only realized I was writing fanfic but read it and encouraged me to keep writing, but to find something better to write about than that "awful Dark Shadows". There was the neighbor up the street who walked in one day to find me on day three of a week-long writing jag and demanded to see what I was doing. Then she demanded to read pages as soon as they came off the printer. All I can say is she was either desperate for something to read or a very good friend or both because the so-called novels she read are forever destined to under my bed...they'd be destined for the bonfire except Sarah has threatened to hurt me if I burn anything else I've written. Sigh.

There are others, of course. Poor Kate who gets to read stuff as it is written, mistakes and all, and who hasn't run screaming into the night. At least, if she has, she hasn't told me. There's Dave who is always there with an ear to listen and an encouraging word. I try not to bother him because, well, in my mind it is more important for him to write and feed my need for his books than to spend time holding my hand when I start doubting myself.

I can't end this post without mentioning Sarah who, with her pointy boots and threats to employ them to certain parts of my anatomy, won't let me quit writing even when I most want to. Not that it happens often or last long. It's Sarah who prods me into submitting and who will always tell me the truth, no matter how much it hurts, about my writing.

Okay, this turned into more of an emo post than I meant. Sorry. I promise to return to my prickly self next week. In the meantime, who has served as inspiration and support for you as you've gone down the path to becoming a writer? Have you had the opportunity to return the favor to someone?

Weird Writing

So where is the weirdest/most interesting place you have ever written? In the base camp at Everest? In a submarine? In the Gobi desert? ( I have about twenty notepads stuffed full of ideas for stories. Many were penned in the middle of industrial plants while wearing full PPE -- ear muffs, steel-capped boots, hardhats etc. Probably more than one are technically toxic with smudged 'goo').

When the going gets tough and you are reduced to jotting down quick thoughts on a notepad, balancing the laptop on the bus or hiding in the emergency stairwell at work - what is the craziest thing you have got yourself to write to just get words on the page? Notes on Chinese-menu inspired operas? Soap opera scripts based on the lives of bacteria?

What are the best day-to-day activities that allow you to brainstorm while in autopilot? Doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, ironing, painting, handyman stuff etc

What is your best toy to get yourself in the mood for writing?

When the Dam Breaks

After all the talk about searching for inspiration, I thought it might be fun to talk about the other end of the spectrum. When the dam breaks, and you are completely overwhelmed with ideas, with energy, with a compulsive desire to create.


I think for a lot of artists, work tends to happen in a cycle. A dry period after the completion of one work when the artist is drained and exhausted - particularly if you have done the work by burning the candle at both ends. Then the miserable period of getting yourself up off the floor again - when it feels like you will never be inspired again, ever.


But the dam does break.


It's because artists regard this frenzied period of work as the normal state that it is usually glossed over. People rarely talk about this active creative phase - for one thing they are busy doing it (and don't have time for a blog whinge - Facebook is the exception) and because they often feel perfectly happy to work in isolation without crowing about it. (Mind you nothing gripes me more than hearing on Facebook about how writer X has done 10,000 words today when I can't open the laptop).


South-east Queensland is experiencing one of the wettest periods in half a century. All the dams (which were bone dry 18 months ago), are literally full to bursting. They are so full that water is being released, even though - in combination with the Brisbane river tide - this is expected to cause flooding in Brisbane. The city and region around it has already experienced significant flooding, with scores of swollen creeks blocking roads, cars abandoned at crossings, mud slides, abandoned homes. The wettest period since the lead up to the infamous 1974 flooding - and it's not even the wet season yet!


The picture is of Somerset Dam, which is one of the dams releasing water at the moment.


Back to the main theme: It's a good idea to do some planning for when the dam breaks. Depending on your situation, it might be worth being ready to negotiate some extra 'alone-time' with the family, perhaps book a room at Sarah's favourite hotel, or perhaps take time off work (if your work is flexible that way).


Having been brought up by harsh parents who were extremely black and white, I tend to think I can go about things like a robot - doing the same amount of work no matter how I feel. That's handy when breaking through a hesitation to write (I don't believe in writer's block), but it has the downside that I don't recognise my own natural patterns. Creativity and 'lumpish' work flow go hand-in-hand.


So how do you prepare for the flood? Do you have a garret ready for when the Muse strikes?

Inspiration

This is what every writer, every artist, everyone who create in one form or fashion seeks. To some, inspiration comes easily. They find it in the sights and sounds surrounding them. Random snippets of conversation, the smell of freshly baking bread, a memory brings the muse singing to them. To others -- and all too often of late this has been me -- it is a fleeting thing, something that teases us but never quite delivers.

I was talking to Sarah about this the other evening. Actually, I was whining about it because my tinfoil hat seems to be preventing the ideas from coming where hers actually seems to incubate them. She listened for a few minutes and then verbally slapped me -- as she should have -- and told me to go to the dictionary, pick out four words, throw one out and then write a story using those three words. Oh yeah, the words had to be picked at random. So I couldn't get away with using "a", "and" and "the". Have I told you she was evil?

The other thing she told me to try was to go to a collection of Kipling, or any other poet, and scan the titles. Choose one and then adapt it to my own words and go from there. Well, let's just say my heels dug in at that. Before she could come up with any other helpful suggestions, I took refuge in the fact I had to get ready for the house to be invaded by a bunch of college kids in town for the football game. Whew.

Or so I thought until dinner last night. Mom, my son, one of his buddies from college and I were sitting around the table talking when Mom brought up the fact she wanted to go to the Dallas Holocaust Museum. There'd been a wonderful story about it in the Dallas Morning News that morning. The odd thing about it was the fact that my son and I had been talking about visiting the museum when he's home for winter break. Of course, when you start talking about World War II with my mom who lived through it, my son and his buddy who have already signed their commitments to the military (or, in the buddy's case, is about to) and me, well, it becomes a long conversation that branches off into military history, etc.

Any way, as we talked, a niggling of an idea, not quite inspiration hit. It germinated all night and then sent me looking at images this morning. And that's when it struck me, and when it reminded me of Chris' post a week ago. I'm visual and there are certain sights that to send my imagination not just traipsing comfortably down the path of inspiration, but running wild.

Who can fail to be moved by the sight of a pile of shoes as high, or higher, than they are tall? Who did the shoes belong to? What's the story of the little girl who once wore the Mary Janes, or the boy who wore the scuffed and scored brown leather shoes. Did they survive the camps and did their families? We've all heard of, if not read, Anne Frank's Diary. But what about all the men and women, boys and girls, represented by these shoes? More importantly, if I were to write a story using this sort of image as inspiration, could I do justice to the memory of all those represented here, even if I might be writing a romance or a sf/f piece?

This is an image that has haunted me from the day I first saw it. I had the pleasure of being in Washington D.C. not long after the Korean War Memorial was opened. The sight of these life sized statues trudging through the rice paddy in the day was haunting. At night, well, it's something I'll never forget. The artists involved in making the statues managed to capture not only the pride and determination of these men, young and not so young, but also the exhaustion, the pain and the despair a soldier feels after being in the field for so long. This one statue in particular remained with me, simply because of the expression on his face. I can read so much there and, yes, it will be incorporated into the story I'm now being battered about the head and shoulders with.

But it's not only the tragic or the battle-weary that inspires me. It's also the majestic and whimsical. The Summer Palace outside of St. Petersburg, Russia is one such place. It represents not only some of the most beautiful architecture I've ever seen, both inside and out, but also a sense of whimsy. If you walk the grounds, there are areas where you have to watch your step because if you happen to step on the wrong colored rock, you'll get soaked by hidden fountains. Just imagine the courtesans with their fancy clothes and attitudes walking oh so properly only to have the tsar's sense of humor douse them -- especially since their companions who weren't soaked would be having the laugh of their lives. The palace and its grounds also have a rich history from WWII, but that's for another day.

So, how about you? Where do you draw inspiration from when you find yourself reaching for an idea and it just isn't there? Or what about these photos? Do you get anything from them or from their stories?

Nature & Inspiration (Holy Cow)

No, this is not a post about St Moo, the little known Irish cow-saint of county Limerick. Although her life's journey from tragic poddy calf to hard working inspiration of working class Irish cows is now part of Paddy folklore (her case for Mooification is currently before the Vatican).

Writers often mention various sources of inspiration for fiction. They might visit art galleries and get inspired by great works of art. Perhaps they listen to music to get into the right mood for their next scene.

I love nature and being outside. I find it a real tonic for my spirit and a way of letting my mind slow down.

A lot of genre fiction contains a strong element of natural setting. Fantasy fiction in particular often relies on the trek through the forest, or might feature the loner in his cabin in a remote mountain hideaway. Think of John Flanagan's Ranger's Apprentice (which is YA). Descriptions of nature - the trees and forests - and the various animals are critical to his work.

Even though being in contact with nature indirectly helps my writing by allowing me to balance my oft over-heated psyche, it doesn't necessarily directly inspire me (although it has inspired some scenes & I love to write descriptions of things I have seen while travelling, including natural wonders).

It just had me curious. Are any of the writers out there directly inspired to write by natural settings? If so, is there a market for waterproof laptops?

The Creative Genius Connundrum

According to Mark Changizi over at Scientific Blogging:

'“Genius” is a fiction. It is a throw-back to antiquity, where scientists of the day had the bad habit of “explaining” some phenomenon by labeling it as having some special essence. The idea of “the genius” is imbued with a special, almost magical quality.'

So if there is no such thing as genius, what is there?

Changizi thinks what makes some people better at coming up with ideas is 'their manner of hunting ideas'.

His theory is that 'Being a successful idea-hunter requires understanding the field (whether science, art or technology), but acquiring the skill of idea-hunting itself requires taking active measures to “break out” from the ape brains evolution gave us, by being aloof.'

I'm not quite sure what me means by 'being aloof'. I agree you have to know something inside out to be able to play with it and bend it in new ways. As writers we play with language, we also play with narrative to create tension and we play with the people we invent, to make them so interesting that complete strangers feel compelled to read whole books about them. (Otherwise, why would they finish our books, once they start them?)

I've just read Changizi's article on the Value of being Aloof. From what I can gather, he thinks belonging to a community stifles your creativity because as soon as you join a community you adapt to fit in, which limits your options.

I don't know what sort of communities he has belonged to, but I've found the writing community very supportive. I belong to several different writing communities and sub groups within those, and each one stimulates me in different ways.

Now I've found another article by Changizi which supports what I just said.

'in order for an individual to act like a community of idea-seekers, one must just carry out multiple directions of idea-generation in parallel. '

I think what he's trying to say is that we must stimulate our creativity by going to many different sources, seek out new input and always be open to ideas.

This comes back to my theory that there are two types of people in the world.

There are those people who don't like change. They reject difference, whether it is race or culture, because it it frightens them.

And then there are those people who seek out the different because they find it stimulating. I suspect it is born into us and not something we can consciously control. So the creative person actively seeks out stimulation because that is the way their mind is wired and they are looking for inspiration.

I love the Jack London quote: 'You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.'
For more Jack London quotes see here.

What do you think? Does the writing community stimulate your creativity or hamper it? Do you actively seek out the new and possibly confronting? Do you chase inspiration with a club?

Holiday Writing

OK I'm not talking about travel writing, where intrepid backpackers write to Lonely Planet about how the rice-wine is in the bamboo hut accommodation of the Cambodian rain forest. I'm also not talking about the writing you might do when you are on holidays - which for me is usually a combination of describing things I've seen during the day that caught my eye, or scribbling down ideas and other snippets that have popped into my mind.

The sort of holiday I'm thinking about is the sort you get when you change jobs - the 'out of the frying pan into the fire' sort of holiday when people nod knowingly and say - 'Ah, yes. A change is a good as a holiday!'

I've been editing large novel projects for years now, seemingly in an endless loop. Recently I've broken that pattern and written the first three chapters of an Urban Fantasy. Writing something that was completely contemporary was a lot of fun, and I got a chance to describe bits of Brisbane I grew up in as well. But following that I really felt like I needed a break from novels - so I gave myself a holiday. A writing holiday:)

I did not actually go anywhere, what I did was let myself go completely into a fantasy idea that has been floating around for a while. With nothing more than the proverbial smell of an oily idea and no concept where the whole thing was going to end up - I just unleashed myself. It was great fun, and fantastic to let myself get that far mentally into a first draft exercise without scrutinising myself to severely. The project ended up coming in at just under 18,000 words - a supremely unmarketable length! But I love it.

It made me realise how much fun it is to let the brakes off, to let yourself get right into something that is grabbing you by the heart.

It was nice writing holiday. Now that I am back I have to edit it. Damn!

What sort of writing holidays to you give yourself?

Writing on the Run

It can be pretty hard to find the time to write. Life has a way of coming at you all at once. Family dramas, excessive workload, sickness - all of the above.

One of the things that has really saved me when things get hectic is the discovery that my laptop works fine on the bus. This gives me up to an hour a day during the week, and it all goes surprisingly well when I don't get distracted by people talking loudly on their mobile (first up against the wall when the revolution comes) or to each other right behind me. If you are prone to travel sickness, that would probably knock that one out.

If you are being beaten back even more, there are always those few minutes spent waiting for an elevator, or waiting for the bus or train. You can use those moments to dream away about your story, maybe flesh out a character, or if things are really grim, just feel good about the fact you are a writer.

Carry a notepad or electronic equivalent that you can slip easily into your laptop bag, pocket or purse. If you get into the right frame of mind, its amazing how productive you can be on the ideas front in very short slices of time. I personally love writing with pen on paper. Sitting down in a cafe with my English Breakfast tea (strong) and writing in my journal is a treat.

Feed the beast: Let yourself get immersed in good fiction, or visual story. Read things that excite you. Inspire yourself creatively. You can do that even you are unwell and too physically exhausted to sit in a chair. Try audio books if you need to be on the move. Get the creative juices flowing - you never know when that great new concept will hit you right between the eyes. I got my last one pulling up weeds.

Find your niche: Even in the most busy life there will be places you can find a calm moment - 'eyes in the storm'. My favourite is to escape to a local cafe. The development of an invisibility field is highly recommended:)

Use the mundane tasks of the day as brainstorming time - doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, ironing, painting, handyman stuff etc

How do you manage to fit in writing when things get crazy?

Beyond the End (The Other Side)

What lies on the Other Side?

Does this question conjure up creepy images of the afterlife? The shadowy realms that border graveyards? OK, ignore me, its my horror frame of mind at the moment as I contemplate a Brisbane ghost story.

What I really had in mind was probably something equally horrific - well at least for me. And that is what lies on the Other Side of my last work in progress.

I usually conceive the story before I start. I might fill in gaps as I go, and everything certainly comes alive, but by the time I am steaming toward the end I am picking up some appreciable pace. By the time I write to the end (I'm talking first draft here, not all the other thousand times I rewrite it) I am sometimes so pumped that I can hardly sit in the chair. I guess I'm a finisher - which probably explains the trouble I have with beginnings. Or starting something.

Once I've finished a project, I have a pretty massive creative crash. Going from that level of immersion into a new project is tough for me. I know this is the absolute opposite of many others, but facing the first, blank page of a new world is like sitting on the floor after harakiri contemplating my entrails in a state of mortal agony. OK. Might be getting a little dramatic. I guess you probably realise I am there right now. Related to this is my problem of holding onto things way longer than I really should.

Don't get me wrong, starts are exciting as well. Its fun being able to leap conceptually in any number of directions and give birth to something completely new.

So how do you face The Other Side? The period of completion after your creative project? Do you jump for joy, light up a cigarette and crack a bottle of champagne? Do you crash mentally and emotionally? Do you breath a sigh of relief and reach excitedly for the parchment?

What is the Other Side like for you?

Teachers who inspire us!

In Australia last weekend was a long weekend. I spent the Saturday at my daughter's school (she's a student teacher) helping her clean her classroom/office. She is a specialist music teacher so she gets a little office to teach her students in. It's a lovely room, in that it has air conditioning and a new view of the oval. But it is boring with standard carpet, standard desk, standard windows and standard pale green painted walls.

So, once we'd cleaned it, we went to Spotlight (material and craft store) to do up the room. We bought pale blue chiffon for the windows. Rainbow chiffon to make a fabric rainbow, sparkly butterflies to put on the walls and curtains, stickers of birds and flowers for the walls and stick-on little green frogs to hide in corners and give the boy students a thrill. She rang me this evening to say that the kids loved the class room!

All this is leading up to how important teachers are. They can turn a fascinating subject into a chore or they can inspire us. When I was in school, every Friday afternoon we had to write a composition (essay). The teacher would give us a topic and we would write a story. I LOVED this and looked forward to Friday afternoons. No matter how staid and boring the topic, I always found a way to turn it into something interesting. Aliens taking over the world? Sure, why not? Kidnapped by a space ship? Sure, I can do that.

And every Monday I would get my marks back. Not one word about the story, just an irritated admonishment to spell the words correctly or I would never get anywhere in life, with a list of spelling words I had to write out ten times.

Contrary to my teachers' warning, I went on to write and be published!

So did you have any teachers who inspired you to be creative?

Idea of the Month Club

One of the things that non-writers find it hardest to grasp is that ideas are not the problem. Its worse when you come head to head with someone who perhaps doesn't read all that much, or does not read in the speculative fiction area. You start rabbiting on about your book, and ten minutes after you should have stopped (about the time that glazed look appeared), they stop and ask 'But where do you get your ideas from?' or 'And you make all that up?'

My Dad was as black and white as they come. He was a policeman for more than forty years and imagination was not his strong point. Time and again he would fix me with a perplexed look, the frown of concentration would appear and he would say, 'And you make it all up?' Ahh, yes Dad. 'But where do you get all the ideas from?' He could just not concieve that I could do it.

As most writers know - the ideas are not the problem. Its the craft, the packaging into a vehicle for them i.e. a story. The problem tends to be TOO MANY ideas - pocket books overflowing, scraps of paper with tiny scrawls etc.

After too much frustration with this response I started telling people that I subscribed to the Idea of the Month Club. Yes, there was this woman in Sydney who would send out a newsletter packed with ideas for a modest fee. I thought it would be amusing when they got the joke - but the sad thing is these people actually believed it! Then I felt terrible misleading them. Sigh.

But the other thing writers know is that the flow of ideas has its own rhythm, and can sometimes be very lean indeed. The whole creative font seems to run to its own strange designs. I know that getting inspired by books and film really tends to get my creative juices going. Reading books on topical science really gets the SF ideas flowing.

What ways do you use to get inspire the flow of ideas?

Help! I See Plots.

Yesterday, Sarah wrote about being attacked by a novel and how it can happen at the most inconvenient of times. I think a number of us can identify with that. It pushes you away from everything when it happens, demanding that you put fingers to keyboard -- or pen to paper -- and write. I love those days, even if they do mean postponing the chores I really needed to do or not going to the movie I wanted to see.

Then there are those times when being a writer means you look at things a bit differently than most everyone else. At least I hope it's being a writer and I'm not turning into a conspiracy nut ;-)

An example of this, and how it happens to me, is yesterday's crash of the TU-154 in Russia that killed Polish president Lech Kaczynski, his wife and more than 90 other people. Many of those killed held positions in the Polish government. They were on their way to Russia to take part in a tribute honoring the thousands of Polish officers slain by the Soviet secret police in 1940 around Katyn forest in western Russia. If I remember correctly, there were several thousand officers killed. In total, more than 20,000 Poles died during that time at the hands of the Soviets.

As horrible as news of the crash was, it was the details of it that sent my mind racing, looking for cause and effect. The first thing to catch my eye was the initial report that one person who was supposed to be on that flight didn't make it on board. Maybe nothing, but the writer in me starts wondering if, perhaps, that person knew something was going to happen. Did they have a premonition? What caused them to decide not to board the jet?

Then there was the fact that the jet went down in Russia. Russia, long an enemy of the Polish state. An enmity that goes back longer than the existence of the communist state, long before the events leading up to World War II. Still, that part of my brain that tries to think logically most of the time kept telling me I was reading more into it than was there.

But, I reminded myself, let's not forget that the jet had been serviced just a few months ago -- in Russia. What if something had been done -- or not done -- to the jet then. Could this all be some sort of plot aimed at striking at Polish leadership?

Mind you, there is no proof to any of this. I'm not saying the deaths of President Kaczynski and all those others was anything but an unfortunate accident. What I am saying is that my mind took those leaps yesterday and started spinning the threads together to form the basis of a story.

I know part of the reason I made those leaps of logic -- and, no, I'm not saying it was real logic -- is my age. I don't remember the Cuban Missile Crisis but I do recall President Kennedy's assassination. I remember the drills in elementary school when we practiced what to do in case of a tornado -- or nuclear attack. I remember seeing the signs on buildings and highway overpasses/tunnels letting us know where the shelters were in case of attack. So I might be a bit more predisposed to think of the events surrounding the crash as part of a plot than others would be.

What I do know is I do seem to look at things and have a part of my mind thinking about how I can use it in a story. Whether it is something like the horrible crash yesterday or watching the men take down the 50' pine tree in my front yard, seeing how one of the men worked bottom to top as he took down the limbs, leaving footholds as he went and how he carefully trimmed each limb before he cut it down so it wouldn't tear up the ground when it dropped. Then there was how he all but communed with the tree, carefully circling it, studying it, almost talking to it as he figured out where to cut so the trunk would fall exactly where he wanted.

How about you? What sort of leaps does your mind take when reading the news or watching something happen? Is it the same sort of leap you see from those around you or different? Or should I just accept the fact that I see plots -- and possibly conspiracies -- around every corner?

Inspiration Redux

First of all, thanks to Sarah for swapping days with me. This past weekend was an interesting one, and not in the proverbial way. My mother and I made our way through the always ongoing construction on I-35, carefully avoiding the wrecked tanker trucks and the inevitable multi-car pileup in the backup from the wreck to Wichita, KS. Now why, you might ask, would we do that. Well, simply put, it was our cousin's 90th birthday and a grander lady doesn't exist -- at least not in my mind. So we spent Saturday and part of Sunday with family, having what can only be called a mini-family reunion.

As is usually the case whenever this side of my family gets together, talk often turns to the various parts of the publishing industry. My great-grandfather ran a newspaper in Colorado. My great-uncle was, at one time, the youngest lin0type operator in Kansas. His brother did a stint as a reporter. One of my cousins is a printer -- rather, he was, but he's been outsourced and now works in another industry since he can't find another printing job. Another cousin is published in academic presses. And then there's me. One pro sale. Several short stories out making the rounds now. A couple of novels on submission at various publishers. And an anxious eye cast at my email account, waiting to hear from someone, anyone and trying to tell myself to forget about my babies until they come home or I get that wonderful message saying they've been bought.

As you can probably guess, some of us started talking about writing: why we do it, what we want from it, etc. And we discovered one thing. We've always written. Not all of us have wanted to be writers, but we've always felt that need to write. Some of us do stream of consciousness writing. Putting pen to page and just letting the words flow. For the most part, these are the ones who are journal-keepers. They have the need to write, but not the motivation or desire to let anyone else see it. Then there are others who want to be writers but are too scared or not confident enough in their own ability to ever let anyone save a few close friends/family members see what they've written. Then there's me -- I used to fall into the last group. But what makes me different from some of the others in my family isn't that I'm stubborn. If you look stubborn up in the dictionary, you'll see that side of my family pictured. No, what makes me different is that I finally gave in and let someone outside of the family see what I'd written and she took me under her wing -- Sarah, quit squirming. She -- along with Kate, Dave and a couple of others -- have given me the courage to believe in myself, something I appreciate more than they can ever know.

Okay, back to the weekend. We started talking about what inspires us to write. What is inspiration vs. motivation in writing? That's something I really hadn't thought too much about. So, being me, I spent much of the six hour drive home doing just that. And had inspiration hit me smack in the face as a result. Fortunately, I wasn't driving at the time or things could have gotten messy.

For those of you not familiar with I-35 in Oklahoma, there's a stretch of road south of Oklahoma City that is still more ranch and farm land than city or town. You can go for miles seeing only outbuildings and cattle and horses. Trees -- some birch, oak, elm, and pine -- dot the fields and line the sides of the road. And that is where inspiration hit.

Mile after mile of bare trees and lush evergreens showed some of the oddest damage. Upper limbs were broken and scatted around on the ground. Some hung from threads higher up. Others had fallen with such force that they were impaled in the ground. But unlike damage from tornadoes or high wind, these limbs looked as if they'd simply snapped and fallen straight down. Almost as if someone or something had stepped on them, realizing after causing the initial damage that something sharp was sticking them and moving away before demolishing the rest of the tree. I wish it hadn't been raining so I could have gotten a photo.

Intellectually, I know the damage is from the snow and ice the area has had this winter. But my writer's imagination began running wild. What could have caused the damage? Was it an alien machine, ala War of the Worlds, moving through the unpopulated areas, setting up bases in preparation to attack? Perhaps it was the Trickster from Native American legend, playing his mind games with me. Maybe giants actually roam the land through there and that's why more people haven't developed the area.

Well, you see how it went. From those few minutes looking at the scenery around me, I have the start of a new story. I'm not sure yet how it will finally manifest itself, but it's there. So where do you find inspiration? What's the strangest thing that's inspired you? What's the difference between inspiration and motivation in writing?

Inspiration's Where You Find It

This has been a decidedly strange week in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. We've set the record for the most snowfall in a 24 hour period with over 15 inches of the white stuff hitting the ground, followed closely by tree limbs, branches and, well, entire trees. At one point, almost 250,000 homes and businesses were without power. Despite temperatures in the 40's yesterday, there is still snow on the roofs in in shaded areas. You'd think someone, somehow moved DFW further north and didn't tell us.

Of course, the snow with all its attendant problems hit just before all the NBA All-Star activities were scheduled to start at Jerry World (for those not familiar with Jerry World, it's also known as the new Dallas Cowboys Stadium.) There were a lot of nervous city and business leaders worried that all their money and hard work getting ready for the activities would be all for naught. But this being Texas, the impact was minimal...so far.

Not to be outdone or forgotten, the Olympics began this week as well. Wonderful opening ceremonies, marred by a 4 minute technical difficulty toward the end. Team USA won 4 medals (1 gold, 1 silver and 2 bronze) last night. I held my breath with others across the nation as the Koreans made their move in one of the men's speed skating short track events, wondering if they'd push Apolo Anton Ohno out of contention. Then there was the crash and Ohno came through unscathed, capturing the silver medal, tying him with Bonnie Blair for the most medals won by any athlete in the Winter Olympics.

The cap on the week's news was learning that one of the major freeways here had been closed down last night when local police received a tip about a "suspected terrorist". Fort Worth and Arlington police gave chase and the suspect(s) finally crashed out. Before the police could move in, she told them there might be a bomb in her car. The freeway was closed for hours and now, more than eight hours after I heard the first report, there still isn't much information coming out about what happened other than the fact the freeway is open and the suspects aren't terrorists. Still, unconfirmed reports from one of the local TV stations say that one of the suspects has been arrested on several occasions -- once for hanging around one of the local airports not too long after 9/11 while dressed in camos and looking suspicious and making a lot of folks very nervous and another time for brandishing a hand grenade (which later turned out not to be live) at another driver in a road rage incident. She is on the record being against the war.

So what, you ask, does all this have to do with writing? A couple of things. The first is the easiest to identify. All of this has been a distraction -- a very big distraction -- to writing. I wanted to play in the snow. Then I had to cut up the huge limb that fell out of our pine tree out front. And shovel/sweep the front walk. And scratch my head and try to figure out what a person is supposed to do besides play when you have that much snow at one time. This is Texas. It takes years to get a foot of snow, not hours. As for the rest of it, well, there's this evil invention call the television. Or at least to me during the Winter Olympics and, yes, when there might be a terrorist in my backyard.

But there is something more important in all this. Each of these incidents is fodder for the creative juices. The Ohno silver medal race can now be the background of a scene...complete with guys yelling and screaming as the two Korean skaters go down and he skates past them to the finish line. Popcorn flying through the air on his qualifying round as he goes from last place to first, seeming to simply teleport to do so (hat tip to Chris K. for that image).

Then there's the incident last night. I am intimately familiar with where the suspect's car crashed and the freeway was shut down. I've been stuck in traffic there more times than I want to count. I could imagine being caught in the two mile backup and then hearing on the radio why the road is closed and not being able to get off. What would go through your mind as you sat there, wondering if -- should there be a bomb and should it go off -- you're far enough away to survive? Or what if you're sitting at home and you get the call from your husband or wife or child? Even now, as I sit typing this entry, I wonder why the police aren't giving up more information if, as the one TV station alluded to last night, this wasn't a terrorist they stopped but just a local crazy.

From all this, I have a lot of seeds of inspiration floating around in my head. I know at least a couple of them will find their way into something I write. It may be as a background or a passing scene, but it will be there. And that's cool -- at least to me.

So, where do you find your inspiration? Has anything happened this week in your life that you can use as fodder for a story idea?

Synergies

Like 99.99% of authors on the planet, I need to go out and work to bring in the bacon.

For me its applied process engineering, specifically looking at process integration to reduce the energy demand of a shale oil production process and assessing a range of carbon offset and renewable energy projects – call me Mr. Greenhouse. Its interesting work, and I find myself at the forefront of global research and practical application, and I have always had a keen interest in science. Its also nice to be part of something. But again, like most authors on the planet, I wish I could somehow invert my life and actually Work my writing with a capital ‘W’ instead of shoving it into the cracks and make engineering the enjoyable pastime (not that I regard writing as a hobby, and friends have learnt through harsh experience not to suggest it is one! Something about that word, ‘hobby’).

I have spent so much of my life remonstrating at the competition between ‘work’ and writing, that I have never really stopped to think about how they complement each other – or could work in some sort of synergy. Sometimes I feel like I have put myself into so many ‘compartments’ that I’ll never get myself together again, but maybe its time to start trying.

I guess there is the obvious one – that is that the science and engineering directly inform my science fiction. I guess the whole structured approach that I have been trained in also comes out in the way I approach designing a story arc and plotting my work. Mind you I am far from a typical engineer, and am definitely on the outside of the curve in terms of how they think and approach the work.

It goes the other way as well. I think my writing has made me an outstanding communicator in my career. And the effort I’ve put into learning how to network at conventions has flowed effortlessly into doing the same thing at technical conferences.

What sort of work do you do? And how has that enhanced your creativity and your writing, or inspired you?

Primordial Soup

Just as Rowena talked about the different ways that we writers stay inspired, there are no doubt myriad ways in which we all first approached the Muse.

What was the writer's ‘Primordial Soup’? Were you drawn by the prose itself? Did it sing in your head? Did sentences appear before you written in fiery letters?

Or was it a sense of character, building up inside you until you just had to let those critters free on the page? Or perhaps it was emotional – something from your past that drove you to explore a theme that strongly resonated with you. Perhaps you recreate the same emotional landscapes that haunted your childhood, and your protagonist is an aspect of you, saving you over and over again (guilty as charged).

Or was it the ideas themselves? Those Wow concepts that electrified your brain. ‘Oh, my God! What if . .. ?’ And this was so compelling that it drove you to weave an entire world around it, just so you could communicate it? My SF definitely comes into this category (not that I’ve written much lately).

Of course wherever we start, as writers we have to create all the elements of a story landscape – character, setting, conflict. And answer all those questions of Rowena’s – what is the story about? What does the character want? What does the character have to overcome to get there (or try to)? We need a plot – a series of events that define the story and show the character’s journey.

But where did you start? What was the first form of that passion that drove you to the page?

Setting the Mood

(Chris asked me to post this for him. He's away at a SF con in Canberra and will check in later to answer and discuss your comments -- Amanda)

Rowena's post got me curious about what writers do to get in the mood, or stay in the mood when they write. For me it depends on what I am doing. I used to always write to music, but these days I tend to prefer quite when I am first-drafting - I like to get completely absorbed. Whereas for editing -- which Louise Cousak once described as Creative Bookkeeping -- I still enjoy cranking up the music and even singing along (aren't you glad you're not there!)

I would never have thought about using visuals to set a mood like Rowena does. I can usually evoke any sort of feeling in myself by thinking it (having a reason to evoke it is another story) and imagination serves pretty well for the setting. I guess when writing particular scenes I am dipping into a store of emotional memory, built up over all my experiences. This is why I guess I crave new experiences to add depth and breath to this.

How many of you write to music? What other ways do you get inspired or stay in the mood while you write? If artwork does the trick, why not dance? I guess it might be a little tricky balancing the laptop, but there is always dictating software. Surely somewhere there is a dancer/writer who could bounce along doing ballet while furiously dictating a stream of words at top speed.

Godzilla Attacks Sydney!

Recent reports of a massive dust storm in Australia -- with an 800km storm front and sweeping across thousands of kilometers -- fail to advise that the irradiated dust has drawn an attack on Sydney by the feared Godzilla! The image on the left was sent to our office only moments before the brave soul was incinerated by radioactive flame.

Mothra has been spotted on satellite images, and is moving swiftly toward Brisbane. Scientists fear it is being drawn to the Sunshine State by the scent of radioactive mangoes. The east coast of Australia remains on high alert. . .

OK, well maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but the recent dust storm that blanketed the east coast of Australia (and is heading toward New Zealand) was certainly epic in its proportions (it really was that big). It was the biggest dust storm in 70 years, and dumped more than 75,000 tonnes of dust on Brisbane in one hour. More than one observer reported 'It was like the end of the world' or 'It was like being in a science fiction movie'. The sunset was awesome, the sky as red as Martian dust (Australian desert sands have a high content of iron oxide).

When you see something like that -- really experience it -- it truly is amazing. It got me thinking about settings in books. If only we could channel that experience directly, make the reader feel that same creepy wonder, that otherworldlyness combined with the wake-up-and-look bite of something that is absolutely real.

It also made me realise that we owe it to ourselves as writers, and our readers, to get out there and really experience everything this world has to offer. There are some truly strange and wonderful things out there. It took that massive dust storm to remind myself of that.

So what things have you experienced that have made your head spin? That lifted you out of your own reality? And what writers have inspired similar feelings in you with their sense of setting?

By the way, if you want to see some great images of that dust storm, check out this link: http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/gallery/0,23816,5060705-17382,00.html

Childhood Memories Become an Adult's Inspiration

Yesterday's blog about the masters of SF and their enduring importance to the field started me thinking about what inspired me to become a writer in this particular genre. I'm a child of the '60's. I grew up with Lost in Space and Star Trek (the original). I loved the B movies of the '50's that played on Friday and Saturday nights on the local independent station. Day of the Triffids terrified me and, to this day, I still have to remind myself that looking at a meteor shower won't cause me to go blind and be eaten by walking Joshua trees. TANSTAAFL and "Klaatu barada nikto" were phrases as familiar as my own name. Still, while all of that had an influence on me, it was just the seed, the germ of an idea that had yet to sprout.

What brought that germ of an idea to light was the space program. NASA. Project Mercury and the space race against the Soviets. Would we land a man on the moon before they did? It was the stuff of dreams and daydreams and it sent my imagination soaring.

It seems hard to believe that, come July 20th, it will be 40 years since Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon. Forty years since he uttered those words literally heard around the world thanks to technology that hadn't existed 20 years before: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

I was 11 years old that day. That's the day I knew science fiction could become science reality. It was also the day my imagination took flight, rarely to land for long. Even though I did the "responsible" thing and finished school, went to college, had a career -- or three -- my imagination never stopped flying. I hope it never does.

So, what is that one moment, that one image that inspires you to this day to do what you love?