I've seen parody videos, I've heard other writer's accounts, but I can only speak on my own behalf. So, please, do not take this as gospel. Here's how it usually works for me:
During a nap, or at night, something will sometimes come to me in a dream. In these instances, I usually dwell on the idea that popped in. One idea I had was so good I shot straight up in bed - which sucked for my equilibrium, as I was still asleep - and grabbed the closest piece of paper and pen. I started to write the book, but decided to focus on the Hunters series for now.
Okay, so how did I come up with the Hunters series? Have you ever watched a news cast about someone who killed a friend or family member? It's always the same thing - "They were such a good person. They loved their family and would do anything for anyone. I just don't know what happened." Well, the husband and I were watching just such a story and I sarcastically replied, "Yeah, great guy. I'm sure he's possessed." That's when the bells chimed in my head. What if?
Think about it - What if someone you loved dearly was suddenly possessed by a demon? What if the only way to save their soul was by terminating their life? Could you do it? Could you thrust a sword into their body to release the demon's hold?
A majority of ideas that come to me are from dreams or what-if moments. My sister, friends, family members, etc have called or emailed me with great ideas. Problem with those is I can't "see" the characters in my head since they didn't represent themselves to me.
There's another issue: You can have a great idea, but there has to be characters to play out the scenes, as well as some great conflict and plot loops! Just because a story sounds good doesn't mean the characters want to act it out for you.
Do you write? Where do your ideas come from? Maybe you pull from the news, or maybe your own life.
Hi Christy. Thank you for this blog, it really put some things in perspective for me. I hope I'll have that sort of revelation one day. So far, not much has presented itself, but I'll keep an open mind and not force it. Wish me luck!
ReplyDeleteI would like to be rid of all these stories in my mind. Those stories have me crazy and make this difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy.
ReplyDeleteWe are up at Convict Lake in the High Sierras. Over around west side of this alpine lake there is a near vertical rise of a cliff made of huge boulders and loose rocks and scree. A coyote breaks silence, she yips and yammers. I look up, look and look. I know I cannot spot her, she is a ghost, this is what we Indians believe.
There, she turns her head, I see her lying on a big boulder about a thousand feet up. She looks the size of a fly, and she is looking straight down at me. This coyote is speaking to me. She yips and yammers about survival out in the wild. She speaks of a puma taking her pups, she laughs out yips about a rabbit she chased in endless circles out on the high desert. Her voice is of frustration in the telling of catching trout in a rushing stream. This coyote speaks softly about her husband, her family and her tribal pack.
Then she vanishes like the ghost she is.
A talented authoress does not create a story. A great writer listens and looks at hidden stories being told all around us. I look up at a night sky, each twinkling wink of a star is a story of love and romance out there on a distant planet. Decades back, I am changing our girl's dirty diapers. I look at this peanut butter in her diapers and see a story which spans a thousand generations all the way back to when we were monkeys. Two decades back I fall from a tall cliff here at home. I hit bottom, I am skinned up, hurt and amazed I am still alive. A rock tumbles down, cracks my skull and knocks me out cold. Hours later I come to and realize this is a story of a young Indian girl picking wild blackberries and falling from a cliff. Her story of challenging survival unfolds within my mind.
When you are able to see coyote ghosts, Christy, endless stories will fill your mind and make you crazy. This is a talent of being able to see and hear stories which are hidden behind ordinary life.
Today, Sylvia sends me a news story of a man killed and eaten by his own hogs, huge fat hogs which rip him to pieces and leave little of him behind. Right off a story comes to me, a story of immortal evil doings. Police are baffled, they cannot figure out if this killing is accidental or foul play. I smell a real hog shit of a horror story there, a story of an immortal evil woman who dispenses of her mortal husbands over many centuries by having her hogs eat those boys. She never grows old, they do. Those husbands have to go lest her immortality be discovered.
Talented writers do not create stories rather we see and hear stories the unwashed masses cannot. This is why we are crazy, those endless stories in our minds make us crazy.
Taha
Here's an even better story - An older man receives a Choctaw dictionary from a friend and becomes obsessed with the culture. He then pretends on any and every forum that he is actually a Choctaw woman named Okpulot Taha. This person intentionally goads people, and says disgusting things, then claims everyone is white, Christian racists when they've had enough and banish "Taha" from the site.
ReplyDeleteHate to break it to you, but the information about "Billy" dying from cancer just after his birthday was information given to me by someone who is close to you. Perhaps you need to take it up with them and stop trolling sites.
Just like every other site you join in order to cause problems you are now and forever banished from this site. Have a nice day, and God bless you and may He help you find peace.