Ten Things You Can Do to Jump Start Your Writing Life
Color Spark: Put together a palette of colors (DeGraeve's Palette Generator will make one for you based on any online pic you feed to it) and create a character or setting based on the color combination.
Copy That: Write cover copy for a short story or novel you want to write. If you like how it comes out, use the copy as your story outline.
Cover It: Create a book cover for a story you want to write, and hang it up in your writing space as inspiration/motivation. Or use a cover generator like this French one (input your byline in the box and pick an edition) to generate something random, and write a story based on your results.
Descriptive: Go to a beautiful spot with a notebook, pen and (optional) camera. Describe where you are and what you see in as much detail as you can in your notebook. If you bring a camera, take photos of the most interesting aspects of your spot. You now have the setting for a scene; when you get home write one.
Eavesdrop: The next time you go out (and make sure you do this discreetly/safely) take a notepad and jot down the most interesting things you hear the people around you say. When you get home, choose one or more of the things you wrote down as dialogue, and write them into a scene.
Hour Aside: Devote one hour at the same time every day to work on a writing project (or, if you don't have one, start a new project.) People with day jobs, try getting up an hour earlier -- that always works for me.
Idea Book/Journal: Start a journal of writing ideas. You can just list whatever comes to mind when you think about writing. If you already have enough story ideas, write a journal from the POV of a character.
Super Short: Write a flash fiction of 100 words or less. If you want a real challenge, write a one-sentence story.
Trunk Treasures: Unearth any old story you never finished. Take from it one element (character, dialogue, plot, setting) and use that as inspiration for a new short story.
Uncontest: Find a fee-free writing contest that intrigues you, and write a submission for that contest just for fun (note: if you finish the story in time for the contest's deadline, submitting it would be awesome.)
Showing posts with label story ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story ideas. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
The Idea
I was searching through my old idea file today looking for the original synopsis I wrote for Ghost Writer when I found this partial scene I wrote back in 2012:
“Lunch.” I handed Lucy a wrapped sandwich. At her hurt look, I added, “It’s an all-veggie pita with no-fat dressing.”
“I love you. If you weren’t a girl, I’d have your babies.” She stopped to rip paper and take a huge bite before taste-bliss made her lashes droop. “Oh, God. Maybe we could adopt.”
Lucy had been dieting since high school; I knew because we’d been best friends since the first day of freshman year. I never kept any secrets from her, either, which was making it tough to decide what to tell her about my luncheon appointment.
“So?” She took a bottle of protein water from her bag. “What happened at the bank?”
“Nothing much.” I sat down in the client chair next to her desk and eyed the scuff mark on one side of my right shoe. “Anyone call?”
In mid-chug, Lucy nodded and passed me a small stack of message slips. Because she was the world’s finest receptionist, they were all neatly and beautifully written, and because I was the head of Accounts Receivable, I’d have to call them back.
“You look like someone just kicked your dog,” she told me after she swallowed. “What’s nothing much?”
“It’s just a family thing.” I sorted through the slips, shuffling them according to accounts and making some predictions about what they wanted to tell me. “No money, no money, probably filing Chapter Eleven, no money . . .” I came to one from the bank officer I’d just seen. “Oh.”
“He needs you to mail him a copy of your birth certificate.” Lucy balled up the empty sandwich wrapper, expertly tossing it into the garbage can in the corner of her cubicle before she gave me the eye. “You gonna tell me, or do I have to spread a rumor about you having the hots for Dale Bilmer in Collections?”
“Dale Bilmer is sixty-two.”
She nodded. “And still single. And looks upon you with lust simmering in his pacemaker while he adjusts his toupee.”
I wanted to laugh, but I was too depressed. “I’ve inherited something.”
Lucy leaned close. “Something like what?”
“A French chateau.”
“A what?” Lucy whooped, jumped up and dragged me to my feet before she danced me around. “You’re rich, you’re rich, you’re rich!”
I let her spin me a few more times before I stopped her. “I’m not rich.”
“Oh, sure.” She laughed. “You’re so poor you own a chateau in France. The true definition of poverty.”
“It’s not in France.” I eased out of her arms. “It’s in California.”
“Huh?” Now she looked perplexed. “What’s it doing there?”
“Someone moved it there.” I sat back down and gestured for her to do the same. “It’s in the mountains in the north part of the state.” I hesitated before I added, “I inherited a couple of mountains, too.”
My best friend grinned. “In California? Girl, trust me, you’re rich now. You’re so rich that you could—”
“I have to live there,” I told her, shutting her up instantly. “I mean, if I want the land and the money and stuff, I have to move to California and live in the house.”
“For how long?”
“A month.”
I believe this was the first incarnation of the idea I had that resulted in Breath of Ice, and what's odd is that after I wrote it I never looked at it again until today. So my Accounts Receivable protag (never got around to naming her) heiress morphed into a property manager named Stephanie and the French chateau she inherited because a not-actually-haunted uber McMansion prison for a yeti. I don't recall what I had planned to have haunt the chateau, but I'm sure it would have been something just as strange.
I like haunted house stories, but I don't like how most of them end, and I think that was why I wanted to take a crack at writing one of my own. I liked my two girlfriend characters (actually pretty rare for me; I don't especially like BFF characters) and the dialogue seemed snappy enough. Once I got to the month residency requirement I remember my interest in it quickly evaporated, and I stopped and filed it away.
It's not a horrible idea, and some of it obviously stuck with me long enough to simmer itself into Breath of Ice, but I'm glad I didn't write more. Sometimes an idea is just supposed to be an idea. Do you save your partials and unfinished stories? Ever go back and read them? Do they have any value for you as a writer? Let us know in comments.
“Lunch.” I handed Lucy a wrapped sandwich. At her hurt look, I added, “It’s an all-veggie pita with no-fat dressing.”
“I love you. If you weren’t a girl, I’d have your babies.” She stopped to rip paper and take a huge bite before taste-bliss made her lashes droop. “Oh, God. Maybe we could adopt.”
Lucy had been dieting since high school; I knew because we’d been best friends since the first day of freshman year. I never kept any secrets from her, either, which was making it tough to decide what to tell her about my luncheon appointment.
“So?” She took a bottle of protein water from her bag. “What happened at the bank?”
“Nothing much.” I sat down in the client chair next to her desk and eyed the scuff mark on one side of my right shoe. “Anyone call?”
In mid-chug, Lucy nodded and passed me a small stack of message slips. Because she was the world’s finest receptionist, they were all neatly and beautifully written, and because I was the head of Accounts Receivable, I’d have to call them back.
“You look like someone just kicked your dog,” she told me after she swallowed. “What’s nothing much?”
“It’s just a family thing.” I sorted through the slips, shuffling them according to accounts and making some predictions about what they wanted to tell me. “No money, no money, probably filing Chapter Eleven, no money . . .” I came to one from the bank officer I’d just seen. “Oh.”
“He needs you to mail him a copy of your birth certificate.” Lucy balled up the empty sandwich wrapper, expertly tossing it into the garbage can in the corner of her cubicle before she gave me the eye. “You gonna tell me, or do I have to spread a rumor about you having the hots for Dale Bilmer in Collections?”
“Dale Bilmer is sixty-two.”
She nodded. “And still single. And looks upon you with lust simmering in his pacemaker while he adjusts his toupee.”
I wanted to laugh, but I was too depressed. “I’ve inherited something.”
Lucy leaned close. “Something like what?”
“A French chateau.”
“A what?” Lucy whooped, jumped up and dragged me to my feet before she danced me around. “You’re rich, you’re rich, you’re rich!”
I let her spin me a few more times before I stopped her. “I’m not rich.”
“Oh, sure.” She laughed. “You’re so poor you own a chateau in France. The true definition of poverty.”
“It’s not in France.” I eased out of her arms. “It’s in California.”
“Huh?” Now she looked perplexed. “What’s it doing there?”
“Someone moved it there.” I sat back down and gestured for her to do the same. “It’s in the mountains in the north part of the state.” I hesitated before I added, “I inherited a couple of mountains, too.”
My best friend grinned. “In California? Girl, trust me, you’re rich now. You’re so rich that you could—”
“I have to live there,” I told her, shutting her up instantly. “I mean, if I want the land and the money and stuff, I have to move to California and live in the house.”
“For how long?”
“A month.”
I believe this was the first incarnation of the idea I had that resulted in Breath of Ice, and what's odd is that after I wrote it I never looked at it again until today. So my Accounts Receivable protag (never got around to naming her) heiress morphed into a property manager named Stephanie and the French chateau she inherited because a not-actually-haunted uber McMansion prison for a yeti. I don't recall what I had planned to have haunt the chateau, but I'm sure it would have been something just as strange.
I like haunted house stories, but I don't like how most of them end, and I think that was why I wanted to take a crack at writing one of my own. I liked my two girlfriend characters (actually pretty rare for me; I don't especially like BFF characters) and the dialogue seemed snappy enough. Once I got to the month residency requirement I remember my interest in it quickly evaporated, and I stopped and filed it away.
It's not a horrible idea, and some of it obviously stuck with me long enough to simmer itself into Breath of Ice, but I'm glad I didn't write more. Sometimes an idea is just supposed to be an idea. Do you save your partials and unfinished stories? Ever go back and read them? Do they have any value for you as a writer? Let us know in comments.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Bonsaing Inspiration
The Bonsai Story Generator takes any text fed to it (up to 6K) and randomly rearranges the text to produce new sentences. As you might expect this creates a small mountain of nonsense, but it also produces some interesting word pairings and clusters, a few of which can work as titles, prompts, scene ideas and more.
I took about 4K of my NaNo novel and Bonsai'd it, and then weeded through the results, deleting out the gibberish and whatever else was useless. Here's what I kept, along with some of my thoughts in italics:
Driving through the lionsgate to be ruined
But he should hurt a little as my son-in-law. (Beautiful line for a mean mama-in-law.)
She caught her ladyship's feathered bonnet.
She would have had a traveled veteran.
Tell the wound.
The man looked down into our society, Lady Hardiwick said.
Greville would send Prudence into tarts (I love this as a description of a compulsive eater)
Well, he beheld the mare.
Agitation kindled a gentleman.
The fact that she would do no longer.
She heard a kindly older brother.
As a girl she'd been silly enough to cross their path. (This sparked a new scene for me)
No man had fainted from her.
I haven't a groan.
You are a morning salon, abundantly furnished. (What a nervous man might say while trying to compliment a beautiful, well-endowed woman, maybe)
He is not indulging in the company as yet
the great house at Netherfield Park stood like a spinster (You can't imagine how helpful this was to me. Honestly. Hugely.)
Stand back, she can make himself sick again. (Instant, hilarious imagery)
Julian with no other sound.
He will look at the most generous good enough to be ruined (is there any better description for a penniless rake?)
Lady Maycott released a ridiculous fiction (A lot of us are prone to doing that.)
Miss Maycott, please allow any callers.
I don't care how often he will have us.
It will likely turn the decanter.
It is not the makings of our invitations
Built in pieces, Miss Maycott.
your kindness has no other sound. (I just loved this.)
You have a bloody clue. (as opposed to the cliched haven't)
I feel so dreadful for her, much of her too.
She sat back on her own feelings
The roads are recovered
I will cut open your hopes (this one gave me shivers, and is definitely going in the story as part of a rant.)
You can also feed poems, song lyrics or any other type of text to the generator to be bonsai'd; I do this sometimes with long, imagery-rich poems to get title ideas.
I took about 4K of my NaNo novel and Bonsai'd it, and then weeded through the results, deleting out the gibberish and whatever else was useless. Here's what I kept, along with some of my thoughts in italics:
Driving through the lionsgate to be ruined
But he should hurt a little as my son-in-law. (Beautiful line for a mean mama-in-law.)
She caught her ladyship's feathered bonnet.
She would have had a traveled veteran.
Tell the wound.
The man looked down into our society, Lady Hardiwick said.
Greville would send Prudence into tarts (I love this as a description of a compulsive eater)
Well, he beheld the mare.
Agitation kindled a gentleman.
The fact that she would do no longer.
She heard a kindly older brother.
As a girl she'd been silly enough to cross their path. (This sparked a new scene for me)
No man had fainted from her.
I haven't a groan.
You are a morning salon, abundantly furnished. (What a nervous man might say while trying to compliment a beautiful, well-endowed woman, maybe)
He is not indulging in the company as yet
the great house at Netherfield Park stood like a spinster (You can't imagine how helpful this was to me. Honestly. Hugely.)
Stand back, she can make himself sick again. (Instant, hilarious imagery)
Julian with no other sound.
He will look at the most generous good enough to be ruined (is there any better description for a penniless rake?)
Lady Maycott released a ridiculous fiction (A lot of us are prone to doing that.)
Miss Maycott, please allow any callers.
I don't care how often he will have us.
It will likely turn the decanter.
It is not the makings of our invitations
Built in pieces, Miss Maycott.
your kindness has no other sound. (I just loved this.)
You have a bloody clue. (as opposed to the cliched haven't)
I feel so dreadful for her, much of her too.
She sat back on her own feelings
The roads are recovered
I will cut open your hopes (this one gave me shivers, and is definitely going in the story as part of a rant.)
You can also feed poems, song lyrics or any other type of text to the generator to be bonsai'd; I do this sometimes with long, imagery-rich poems to get title ideas.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Because Sometimes You Need a Prompt
Sorry I'm late posting again today. My life got temporarily derailed, but I'm now back on track, all's well etc.
A few nights back I was doing one of my random searches for online writing inspiration when I found this article by Jenny Yang on ten resources to help break writer's block. Most of them I've already seen, linked to or keep bookmarked, except for one: Plinky. Here's how the site defines itself:
Plinky makes it easy for you to create inspired content. Every day we provide a prompt (i.e. a question or challenge) and you answer. We make it simple to add rich media and share your answers on Facebook, Twitter and blogs.
They don't support Blogger, so I can't comment on how simple it is to share Plinky content on blogs, but those of you who are hooked up to Facebook and Twitter are evidently covered. I looked through the prompt archive, and here's a sampling of what they've posted as challenges for the last three days:
Prompted May 28, 2013: Tell us about the most surprising helping hand you’ve ever received.
Prompted May 27, 2013: Write down the first sight, sound, smell, and sensation you experienced on waking up today. Pick the one you’re most drawn to, and write. (For a bigger challenge, pick the one you’re least drawn to.)
Prompted May 26, 2013: Tell us about something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail (and tell us why you haven’t tried it yet).
These seem like interesting topics for blogging, writing practice and/or personal journaling, and if you wanted to apply them to your fiction you might have a character answer them for you. You can also learn a lot about people by reading the answers that have been posted online by others. Speaking of that, if you don't want to share your thoughts online with others, you can visit the site to pick up the prompt of the day and simply keep your answer to yourself, so in that sense Plinky can work for anyone.
A few nights back I was doing one of my random searches for online writing inspiration when I found this article by Jenny Yang on ten resources to help break writer's block. Most of them I've already seen, linked to or keep bookmarked, except for one: Plinky. Here's how the site defines itself:
Plinky makes it easy for you to create inspired content. Every day we provide a prompt (i.e. a question or challenge) and you answer. We make it simple to add rich media and share your answers on Facebook, Twitter and blogs.
They don't support Blogger, so I can't comment on how simple it is to share Plinky content on blogs, but those of you who are hooked up to Facebook and Twitter are evidently covered. I looked through the prompt archive, and here's a sampling of what they've posted as challenges for the last three days:
Prompted May 28, 2013: Tell us about the most surprising helping hand you’ve ever received.
Prompted May 27, 2013: Write down the first sight, sound, smell, and sensation you experienced on waking up today. Pick the one you’re most drawn to, and write. (For a bigger challenge, pick the one you’re least drawn to.)
Prompted May 26, 2013: Tell us about something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail (and tell us why you haven’t tried it yet).
These seem like interesting topics for blogging, writing practice and/or personal journaling, and if you wanted to apply them to your fiction you might have a character answer them for you. You can also learn a lot about people by reading the answers that have been posted online by others. Speaking of that, if you don't want to share your thoughts online with others, you can visit the site to pick up the prompt of the day and simply keep your answer to yourself, so in that sense Plinky can work for anyone.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Poetry Sparks
Whenever I need inspiration for a particular storytelling task the first place I usually run to is my collection of poetry books. Great poets have the gift of expressing concepts with the most uncommon words and phrases, and gleaning and recombining fragments from these verses often results in a unique title or story idea.
To try this yourself, pick up a few poetry books at the library, grab a notepad and pen, and start reading. When you find a phrase that has appeal to you as a title concept or story inspiration, jot it down (and remember to note the author and the title of the poem so you can go back to it, cite it, etc.)
Here's a list of title sparks I made while reading through The Poetry of Pablo Neruda:
Poetry is also a great place to find story sparks; poets tend to load up their verses with devious imagery and ideas. If you're in an inspirational lull you might find a word or phrase that spontaneously jump starts your muse.
Here's a list of some story ideas I got while reading through Ranier Marie Rilke ~ Prose and Poetry:
Sometimes when you mine poetry you'll get a mixed bag, especially if you read through an anthology with verses written by many different poets. Here's a mixed sparks list I put together while sifting through Poetry That Lives Forever:
Getting sparks from poetry is also a great way to break through a writing block; try looking for words and phrases that create instant imagery and resonate on some level with you. Once you have a list of ten, write out a short premise on what they brought to mind, and then choose one and write one page about it. If the idea doesn't hold your interest, go back to your list, choose another premise and repeat. Even if you don't end up with a complete story, it's great writing practice and might help you get past whatever is blocking you.
To try this yourself, pick up a few poetry books at the library, grab a notepad and pen, and start reading. When you find a phrase that has appeal to you as a title concept or story inspiration, jot it down (and remember to note the author and the title of the poem so you can go back to it, cite it, etc.)
Here's a list of title sparks I made while reading through The Poetry of Pablo Neruda:
- habit of dreams (Joachim's Absence)
- fallen night (We Together)
- between garrisons and maidens (Ars Poetica)
- the moon dwells (Sonata and Destruction)
- her dark star (The Night of the Soldier)
- I listen to my tiger (The Young Monarch)
- garden in the dark (Single Gentleman)
- dreaming of bandits (Sexual Water)
- the midst of rain (Autumn Returns)
- stones of silence (What Spain Was Like)
Poetry is also a great place to find story sparks; poets tend to load up their verses with devious imagery and ideas. If you're in an inspirational lull you might find a word or phrase that spontaneously jump starts your muse.
Here's a list of some story ideas I got while reading through Ranier Marie Rilke ~ Prose and Poetry:
- shadow's falling (The Book of Hours)
- signs of winter (The Fourth Elegy)
- angel gaze (The Seventh Elegy)
- Lords of the House of Lament (The Tenth Elegy)
- with early death (The Tenth Elegy)
- fall of light (The Sonnets to Orpheus, #22)
- racks no longer required (The Sonnets to Orpheus, #9)
- shade or shine (The Sonnets to Orpheus, #29)
- night without objects (The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge)
- those who burned their letters (The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge)
Sometimes when you mine poetry you'll get a mixed bag, especially if you read through an anthology with verses written by many different poets. Here's a mixed sparks list I put together while sifting through Poetry That Lives Forever:
- When his wings enfold (Of Love, Kahlil Gibran)
- A whiplash unbraiding (A Narrow Fellow, Emily Dickinson)
- Not yet in quiet lie (Daybreak, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
- speak silence (To the Evening Star, William Blake)
- with spiders I have friendship made (The Prisoner of Chillon, Lord Byron)
- too hot the eye of heaven (Sonnet XVIII, William Shakespeare)
- all the pleasures prove (The Passionate Shepherd to His Love, Christopher Marlowe)
- at sundawn stirred (A Child's Laughter, Charles Algernon Swinburne)
- halls of pleasure . . . aisles of pain (Solitude, Ella Wheeler Wilcox)\
- the one less traveled (The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost)
Getting sparks from poetry is also a great way to break through a writing block; try looking for words and phrases that create instant imagery and resonate on some level with you. Once you have a list of ten, write out a short premise on what they brought to mind, and then choose one and write one page about it. If the idea doesn't hold your interest, go back to your list, choose another premise and repeat. Even if you don't end up with a complete story, it's great writing practice and might help you get past whatever is blocking you.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Seeing Story
Storytellers have two sets of eyes. There's the pair we use every day to navigate our way through the world, and then there are our inner eyes, through which we see all the possibilities around us. All that's needed to switch between the two is a little imagination.
Take this tree. To everyone else it's an old tree with a hollow. To the storyteller it's a palace of surprises and secrets. What's in the hollow? A sleepy owl, a nest of baby birds, the diary a girl hides there because she never wants anyone to read it? If you reach inside the hollow, will you find a squirrel's nut stash, an old bottle containing a mysterious note, or another hand that tugs at yours?
An old stack of beat-up shipping palettes isn't very exciting. Unless you're a mouse, then it's a castle, a labyrinth, a sanctuary. Or for a kid, it's the mountain they can be king of (until someone knocks them off) -- or something much more dangerous. When I saw this I had a memoir moment, because when I was a child I climbed a stack of palettes just like this. At the time I was also barefoot, and stepped on a rusty nail. I was so worried about being scolded that I hid the wound from my mother for a week, until the fever and the red streaks running up my leg betrayed me. If Mom hadn't been as observant as she was, I might have died of blood poisoning -- all from a stack of old boring shipping palettes, just like this one.
It's not a yellow brick road, but it could be. The diamond shapes want to be counted, encoded, decoded. A game of dodge car and hopskotch, all in one. Perhaps one of the bricks is loose, and when you pry it up there will be something hidden under it, or written on the underside. When the street pavers come, as they inevitably do, what happens to all the old bricks? Do you nick some from the road construction dumpster, a couple at a time, and take them home to build something?
Story inspiration is all around you -- you just have to look at it through your other pair of eyes.
Take this tree. To everyone else it's an old tree with a hollow. To the storyteller it's a palace of surprises and secrets. What's in the hollow? A sleepy owl, a nest of baby birds, the diary a girl hides there because she never wants anyone to read it? If you reach inside the hollow, will you find a squirrel's nut stash, an old bottle containing a mysterious note, or another hand that tugs at yours?
An old stack of beat-up shipping palettes isn't very exciting. Unless you're a mouse, then it's a castle, a labyrinth, a sanctuary. Or for a kid, it's the mountain they can be king of (until someone knocks them off) -- or something much more dangerous. When I saw this I had a memoir moment, because when I was a child I climbed a stack of palettes just like this. At the time I was also barefoot, and stepped on a rusty nail. I was so worried about being scolded that I hid the wound from my mother for a week, until the fever and the red streaks running up my leg betrayed me. If Mom hadn't been as observant as she was, I might have died of blood poisoning -- all from a stack of old boring shipping palettes, just like this one.
It's not a yellow brick road, but it could be. The diamond shapes want to be counted, encoded, decoded. A game of dodge car and hopskotch, all in one. Perhaps one of the bricks is loose, and when you pry it up there will be something hidden under it, or written on the underside. When the street pavers come, as they inevitably do, what happens to all the old bricks? Do you nick some from the road construction dumpster, a couple at a time, and take them home to build something?
Story inspiration is all around you -- you just have to look at it through your other pair of eyes.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Catch and Release
My guy and I were walking by the lake last night so I could photograph the sunset when I spotted something happening near the water's edge (click on any image to see larger version):
When I zoomed in with my camera lens, I was amazed. The head of a little four-foot gator (and yeah, for gators, that's little) had surfaced, and he had just caught a fish:
Lil Gator was all ready to enjoy some sushi. The problem was the fish, which was roughly as big as the gator's head -- too big for him to swallow whole:
At first glance I figured Lil Gator would either have to let it go, or bite off a chunk and let the rest fall back into the water. Meanwhile, interested fisher birds started to gather on the rocks, and another little gator surfaced to cruise toward the commotion.
The dilemma and the pressure didn't stop Lil Gator from trying to swallow the fish whole, but after a couple of futile attempts he began working on the problem by shaking it and turning it around and gnoshing on it:
The whole process took a good ten minutes, but in the end Lil Gator's efforts worked, and he gulped down all of the fish:
Watching Lil Gator earn his sushi feast reminded me of how it is with writing (because of course everything is about writing.) When you latch on to a story idea, it can be huge. Much bigger than your head. No matter how good it looks, you realize how tough it'll be to make it work. Getting it done is going to require a lot of effort, with no guarantees. You might lose your momentum, choke in the middle of things, or something in life might even swoop in and take it away from you.
You can let it go and hunt for something smaller and easier to swallow, or you can work your story, bit by bit. Turn it around, come at it from different sides, and break it down into manageable pieces. As for the fear that for some reason you'll lose it, that never changes. But if it's any comfort, the story waters are chock full of fish just waiting to be caught.
When I zoomed in with my camera lens, I was amazed. The head of a little four-foot gator (and yeah, for gators, that's little) had surfaced, and he had just caught a fish:
Lil Gator was all ready to enjoy some sushi. The problem was the fish, which was roughly as big as the gator's head -- too big for him to swallow whole:
At first glance I figured Lil Gator would either have to let it go, or bite off a chunk and let the rest fall back into the water. Meanwhile, interested fisher birds started to gather on the rocks, and another little gator surfaced to cruise toward the commotion.
The dilemma and the pressure didn't stop Lil Gator from trying to swallow the fish whole, but after a couple of futile attempts he began working on the problem by shaking it and turning it around and gnoshing on it:
The whole process took a good ten minutes, but in the end Lil Gator's efforts worked, and he gulped down all of the fish:
Watching Lil Gator earn his sushi feast reminded me of how it is with writing (because of course everything is about writing.) When you latch on to a story idea, it can be huge. Much bigger than your head. No matter how good it looks, you realize how tough it'll be to make it work. Getting it done is going to require a lot of effort, with no guarantees. You might lose your momentum, choke in the middle of things, or something in life might even swoop in and take it away from you.
You can let it go and hunt for something smaller and easier to swallow, or you can work your story, bit by bit. Turn it around, come at it from different sides, and break it down into manageable pieces. As for the fear that for some reason you'll lose it, that never changes. But if it's any comfort, the story waters are chock full of fish just waiting to be caught.
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