You just never know when or where inspiration will strike.
There are times when I’m just going about my business and I’ll overhear a
snippet of conversation, or witness the interaction between others and it’s
like a firecracker busting loose on the Fourth of July. On rare occasions I’ve been known to mutter ‘holy
shit’ or words to that effect. The idea
may not have anything of substance to do with what I just saw, it’s merely the
way my neurons connected it.
I’ve had people ask me where I get my ideas for stories
from. Usually I’ll just give them a sage nod and say, ‘yes’, which just adds to
their confusion. There really is no way to explain it.
So this week I was looking for a little inspiration. A few writing friends passed along the link
below about a flash fiction contest.
This was a chance to win up to $ 20,000 for 100 words. While I’m a fan of brevity, putting together
a story in so few words isn’t something I’ve ever tried before. But for that
kind of dough, it was worth a shot.
Of course, after submitting my entry, I realized this was the
foundation for a much longer tale. Not sure when I’m going to get the chance to
elaborate on it, but at least the inspiration is there, quietly percolating.
Here’s an excerpt from “Devious” that fits in with the
inspiration. In this scene Jamie and Malone have started dating, but they’re
still getting to know each other.
It was
after ten when we went out for breakfast. My cupboards were barren. I promised
Malone I'd go grocery shopping today. Over waffles and bacon, he caught me
staring at him. I was having grapefruit and coffee. I was willing to control
one appetite while the other was being satiated.
"What's
on your mind, Jamie?"
"I
don't know where to start."
"Make
believe it's a book. Try the beginning."
I laughed.
"I never start at the beginning. I usually work from the middle, then
write the ending and work backwards."
"Okay,
start in the middle." I noticed the twinkle had returned to his eyes when
he smiled.
"Let's
start with you. Do you realize, it's been two weeks since we’ve been seeing
each other, and I know more about my dry cleaner than I do about you?" I
swiped a piece of bacon from his plate, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"What
do you want to know?" He motioned the waitress over to refill our coffees.
"Everything,
Malone, I don't even know your first name."
"What’s
in a name?” His eyes were turning me on, making it difficult to sit still.
“Does it really matter?”
"I
guess not."
He
chuckled. "How about if I give you a profile? I'm forty-two, divorced, no
kids, like skiing, sailing, baseball and football. I've been a state trooper
for seventeen years and never wanted to be anything else. I like classical
music but not opera, jazz but not reggae. Don't even mention rap. I prefer to
sleep in the raw. I drink coffee black,
without any fruity flavors in it. Good enough?"
Some profile.
My character sketches are more detailed than that. "For now. But you still
didn't tell me your name."
"I
only use Malone. Your turn."
"For
what?"
"Your
profile. Pretend it's for a famous magazine ad." He held his coffee cup in
both hands as he sipped, letting the steam rise before his eyes.
"Okay.
I'm thirty-one, never been married, seven kids by seven different men, I like
opera and reggae and some rap. I like almost all sports. I have a degree in
journalism. All I’ve ever wanted to do is be a writer. I don’t even know where
my diploma is. I’m a packrat, but when the seasons change, I make it a point to
throw stuff out, like old boyfriends, and get organized.”
The look on
his face was a cross between disgust and humor. "Rap music?”
"Some
of it’s good.”
Here's an oldie that was just playing on Pandora. While it's been covered by many artists, but this version by the Mamas and Papas is still my favorite.
No comments:
Post a Comment