Where do the ideas come from?
A whisper from your muse?
The deep wells of your mind?
The fogs in your surroundings?
Writers wonder these kinds of things–perhaps most often when they face a blank screen.
With my last project pretty well wrapped up it’s time for me to start a new book. I’ve had some ideas already. Took some notes. Worked out a potential storyline. Named some characters. I put all that away over the holidays and had other things to do. Now it’s time and procrastination begins.
How do I make the story live? Yesterday I spent all day renaming my protagonist’s little brother. I like the new name, and it stirred other thoughts. I began to envision scenes. Today I opened the window blinds and noticed the fog rising on the river, like dreams, like story. By afternoon a feeble sun broke through, and I grabbed a coat to head out for my walk.
So many ideas emerge on those walks. Fog still rising. Rolling down the river between the oak hills and timbered slopes. The story will come. I just have to let it in.
(Photos taken with my new iPhone on the family farm.)