Where do writers get their ideas?
People, upon hearing I’m a writer, tend to have a variety of reactions. Either their eyes glaze over with disinterest, because this sort of thing is just not their thing. Second reaction: mild interest. Wanting to know if they’ve read anything I’ve written. As my beloved novels remain unpublished, I elaborate instead on the smaller successes. Essays, I tell them. Travel, the performing arts, parenting stuff, life stuff. The occasional short story. “Ah,” they say, already bored. “Yes,” I say in return, smiling politely. An awkward pause ensues until I ask about their job and animation returns to the conversation.
A third reaction: their eyes light up. They’re thrilled by the notion. “You know,” they confide, “I’ve dabbled with the thought of writing myself. I’ve got some great ideas for a novel/essay/short story/fantasy trilogy. I’ve got tons of them!” When I ask if they’ve written them down, they shrug, shake their heads. The time factor, you know. But they are fabulous ideas. Seriously.
That’s great. That’s cool. I’ve got ideas as well. Hundreds. Thousands. Life hands them to you everywhere you turn. They crowd your brain, like an overcrowded cocktail party. Each one takes his turn pushing past the others, sticking his face up close to mine and shouting out his idea. A moment later he is pushed back, replaced by another. No matter. He has planted his idea in my brain. It now resides there, along with 70,000 others.
I’ve been asked, “where do writers get their ideas?” Here are my thoughts:
The best ideas come when you are driving. Showering. A general rule of thumb is that, the further you are from a computer or pen/paper, the better the idea will seem. But here’s the caveat: if you don’t stop what you’re doing that instant and write it down, sometimes that Really Good Idea gets lost. Which sucks.
More thoughts:
• Ideas thought and not acted on are not a dime a dozen. They are a dime for twenty dozen.
• Ideas that make it to a one-line scratched out note are more the dime a dozen type.
• Ideas that are more than one line or a catchy title are a dime.
• Ideas that I return to, spend an hour on, turning this way and that, are a dollar.
• Ideas that morph from there into a multi-hour, multi-day piece of work spawning other essays/stories are valuable.
• Ideas that turn into novels are priceless. Utterly priceless. A gift that gives and gives for the next fifteen months.
By the way. This idea morphed, where else, but in the shower. Full blown and perfect in every way. They always are. What made it to the page (with me, dripping from the shower, wearing a towel, typing away furiously) is a paltry representative of the masterpiece that had been hovering there.
This is why I tell people, when they inform me they have an idea, for them to write it down. Really, I encourage it. Strongly. To get your ideas down on paper is the most wonderful feeling. Creative. Liberating. And, well, humbling. Oh, so humbling. Because those thoughts, those perfect pearls of profundity, made you feel like a god. And getting the thoughts down on paper makes you painfully aware of your mortal status. But the good news is this: it also makes you a writer.
PS: I just read the most absolutely wonderful Q&A with bestselling author John Green, that’s solo worth a read. Funny, concise, candid, as he gives his own answers to the above question, and others. Best one, a response to how he deals with writer’s block: “I just give myself permission to suck. I delete about 90% of my first drafts so it doesn’t really matter much if on a particular day I write beautiful and brilliant prose that will stick in the minds of my readers forever, because there’s a 90% chance I’m just gonna delete whatever I write anyway.”
Check out the rest of the blog here: johngreenbooks.com
This article first appeared at The Classical Girl
A third reaction: their eyes light up. They’re thrilled by the notion. “You know,” they confide, “I’ve dabbled with the thought of writing myself. I’ve got some great ideas for a novel/essay/short story/fantasy trilogy. I’ve got tons of them!” When I ask if they’ve written them down, they shrug, shake their heads. The time factor, you know. But they are fabulous ideas. Seriously.
That’s great. That’s cool. I’ve got ideas as well. Hundreds. Thousands. Life hands them to you everywhere you turn. They crowd your brain, like an overcrowded cocktail party. Each one takes his turn pushing past the others, sticking his face up close to mine and shouting out his idea. A moment later he is pushed back, replaced by another. No matter. He has planted his idea in my brain. It now resides there, along with 70,000 others.
I’ve been asked, “where do writers get their ideas?” Here are my thoughts:
The best ideas come when you are driving. Showering. A general rule of thumb is that, the further you are from a computer or pen/paper, the better the idea will seem. But here’s the caveat: if you don’t stop what you’re doing that instant and write it down, sometimes that Really Good Idea gets lost. Which sucks.
More thoughts:
• Ideas thought and not acted on are not a dime a dozen. They are a dime for twenty dozen.
• Ideas that make it to a one-line scratched out note are more the dime a dozen type.
• Ideas that are more than one line or a catchy title are a dime.
• Ideas that I return to, spend an hour on, turning this way and that, are a dollar.
• Ideas that morph from there into a multi-hour, multi-day piece of work spawning other essays/stories are valuable.
• Ideas that turn into novels are priceless. Utterly priceless. A gift that gives and gives for the next fifteen months.
By the way. This idea morphed, where else, but in the shower. Full blown and perfect in every way. They always are. What made it to the page (with me, dripping from the shower, wearing a towel, typing away furiously) is a paltry representative of the masterpiece that had been hovering there.
This is why I tell people, when they inform me they have an idea, for them to write it down. Really, I encourage it. Strongly. To get your ideas down on paper is the most wonderful feeling. Creative. Liberating. And, well, humbling. Oh, so humbling. Because those thoughts, those perfect pearls of profundity, made you feel like a god. And getting the thoughts down on paper makes you painfully aware of your mortal status. But the good news is this: it also makes you a writer.
PS: I just read the most absolutely wonderful Q&A with bestselling author John Green, that’s solo worth a read. Funny, concise, candid, as he gives his own answers to the above question, and others. Best one, a response to how he deals with writer’s block: “I just give myself permission to suck. I delete about 90% of my first drafts so it doesn’t really matter much if on a particular day I write beautiful and brilliant prose that will stick in the minds of my readers forever, because there’s a 90% chance I’m just gonna delete whatever I write anyway.”
Check out the rest of the blog here: johngreenbooks.com
This article first appeared at The Classical Girl
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