The Little Things of Inspiration

A couple of weeks ago I got this slip from a fortune cookie in our Chinese take-out order. Aside from obviously illustrating that the author of said fortune is probably not a native English speaker, it made a little lightbulb go off in my head. Eventually the sentiment made its way into Chapter Twelve of Twenty-One.

Why? Don't know. Just did. That's how inspiration works.

This pic captures one of the most important moments in my creative and spiritual life. Six years after it did, from memory only, it inspired this:

Not all inspiration is funny or pretty. I don't have a picture of one of these, but the DOT in Florida will by request erect a memorial marker on or near a spot where a motorist died in a car accident (I think they can only do it on public land.) These markers are white circles inscribed "Drive Safely, In Memory" followed by the deceased's name.

Unfortunately I live quite close to a couple of very dangerous roads, so they're all over the place here. It was seeing one put up not a half-mile from my house that actually inspired the idea that became Ghost Writer.

Anyway, the point is that inspiration is all around you, and often in the most humble or unexpected forms. All you have to do is keep your imagination open to the universe, and it will toss plenty your way.

Comments

nightsmusic said…

I so often hear 'write what you know' but I think a lot of writers also write what they've known. Without really even realizing it until someone points it out.

That little quilted piece is beautiful. Did you just find the roses in the tree? Placed or growing?

December 29, 2019 at 9:14 AM

the author said…

I've been adding little pieces of my real life into my fiction ever since I started writing, I think. Sometimes thy're tiny, like the goofy fortune cookie slip. Sometimes they're huge, like naming (with permission, of course) Cherijo from StarDoc after a friend in real life. I think we all write what we know in some way, even as you say without realizing it.

I found the roses just sitting tucked in the tree, no doubt placed there by a previous visitor to the spot. If they only knew what they did for me personally in that moment. It really changed my life forever. :)

December 29, 2019 at 9:29 AM

Fell Off the Wagon

I did cut up that plastic dollar tote to make into something stronger, but got caught up with work and set it aside. Then last night some hand-dyed silk and pretty threads called my name, and, well . . . Felt SO good to do some handwork, except my neck began hurting about an hour into it. I tried changing the way I sit and work, but it's pretty obvious that the doc is right.

Old Loves & Such

My guy kindly bought me my favorite Chinese take out the other night, and my fortune cookie offered up an interesting story starter: This sounds sweet, right? Only the first thing I thought of was an old love coming back from the dead . . . . must be October. In other lovely news, my favorite hand-dyed thread artist, Lorraine from Colour Complements , is moving her business from Etsy to her own web site. Many of my favorite sellers on Etsy are leaving due to the whole "free shipping" coercion debacle, which has also soured me on the site. To show support I did a little shopping at Lorraine's web site and got in these: I love her threads and trims; you simply can't buy anything like them anywhere. Her work makes my specialty thread box look like a treasure chest: At night I'm spending just as hour working on quilting the scrap project runner, and I'm making slow progress: I'll keep quilting the runner while I try to decide on a design for t...

T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...

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