A Quick Word

It’s the question that makes writers cringe: “Where do you get your ideas from?” I’ve heard of two writers who both came up with the pact that they would use each other’s names as the answer. Harlan Ellison used to announce that he bought his ideas in three-packs from Schenectady, which backfired when one reader at every signing would unfailingly ask for the address. Philip Pullman gave my favourite answer to the question: “I don’t know where my ideas come from, but I know where they come to. They come to my desk, and if I’m not there, they leave again.”

Ideas of course come from all sorts of places. They come from things that already exist, and sometimes from things that could but never will. They come from dreams and they come from reality. My favourites often aren’t even ideas in themselves, they exist in the confluence where two other ideas meet each other for the first time, the answer to the question: What if this met that?

The trick with ideas is to give them the time to come to you. Most writers I know have complained at one point or another that they can only write at midnight, and I suspect that the reason for this is that the moment just before you sleep is when you finally give your brain a chance to be creative. How often do you actually spend just sitting and thinking, without noise, worries or distraction? The problem with the question of where ideas come from is that the answer is probably drastically un-sexy: I was bored, and I started making something up… No author likes to admit that their beautiful and life-altering novels came to them because they didn’t have much else to do.

I am a notorious ideas hoarder, and have discovered it is an unhealthy pastime. I often sit on story ideas for months or even years, waiting for them to grow and get better. But the brain is like a bucket that needs to be tipped before it can be refilled. In the last couple of weeks I’ve written some pieces I’ve wanted to write for ages, and I find myself invigorated after letting them go. If you’re waiting until you can do an idea justice, my advice is to stop waiting and make it happen. You can always change or fix it later, but I suspect you won’t want to. You will have moved on to something better. The muse is like that, she tends to feed those who appreciate the banquet. Eat your fill - don’t let it spoil.