Stories Everywhere

Story ideas are everywhere. Anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you his idea service.

Today, as I was leaving the grocery store, I pulled up next to a nice black car at the stoplight. The driver was a young blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a professional-style ponytail. It was about 6:00 PM, and she looked as if she had just gotten off work. She was very pretty, and her face was scrunched in worry. That, in itself, is enough to spark a story. What would make a young, successful businesswoman worry so? What is happening in her life?

As she waited for the light, she got a small box out of one of the grocery bags and opened it. She pulled a sheet of paper out of the box and unfolded it. The sheet had a pink border; it was instructions for a home pregnancy test. She was still waiting at the stoplight when I drove into the intersection.

You can’t tell me there’s not a story there. I guarantee it’s a very important story for the young lady. I couldn’t see if she had a ring on her left hand; depending on whether she did or didn’t, the story could go in vastly different directions.

On another occasion, I was walking with my wife in downtown Denver one frigid night. We were on our way to an Eric Johnson concert at the Ogden Theatre. As we walked, a couple about a block in front of us stopped short, dropped their bags, and faced each other, yelling. We slowed, not sure what was going to happen or if we would have room to get by. They sparred verbally, and then the man suddenly picked up his shopping bag, turned, and walked briskly up the street, away from us. The woman stood still. She called after him a couple of times, but he didn’t turn around or stop. She started crying. Gathering her things, she began to shuffle up the street in the direction he had gone, still sobbing in the cold air.

I have no idea what they were arguing about, or whether it was right for him to strand her on Colfax Avenue on a winter night. Perhaps he had some justification, or perhaps he was just a jerk. But the scene could translate almost directly into a story or even a movie script. I’ve often thought it would be a good exercise to write that scene from different perspectives: one that paints the man’s actions in a positive light, one that paints his actions in a negative light, and one that explains what’s happened in a way that neither person looks like the villain.

Observation is really all it takes to come up with the spark for a story. The writer doesn’t have to record the events perfectly for an idea to start burning; in fact, it might keep the idea from growing if the writer sticks too closely to the details. Stories that are based in reality may sometimes benefit from tension-inducing details that were not in the inspirational scene.

Tonight, I played Morrowind for the first time in weeks. I didn’t get very far; in fact, I stopped playing it in favor of reading Word Work. I should be able to finish the book at lunch tomorrow.

Old Anniversaries and New Fiction

Today is the 14th anniversary of my first wedding. It’s one of those dates that I just can’t forget, try as I might. Amy, if you’re reading this, happy former anniversary. I’m sorry things worked out as they did, but I’m glad we get along pretty well now, for Keith’s sake.

Tomorrow is the Tem writing group, in which I am supposed to accompany Melanie on guitar while we sing “Ode to Billie Joe.” I’m ready, I think. It’s a pretty easy song to play, but I have to wonder if the surviving recordings are at a different pitch then they were actually mastered. The TAB and chord files that I have found on the ‘Net indicate that the song should be played in F, but it sure sounds like D to me. I actually like playing it best in E, because I can get a funky little half-step slide in there to imply the song’s bass line.

I’ve mentioned that the homework for that session is to write something out of our comfort zone, but also (if we wish) follow the guidelines of including a tavern or bar. I sat down at the keyboard, knowing only that I was going to attempt either a romance or a horror story, and something calling itself “Chesterfield Gray” came out. By the end of the first 200 words, I had three characters interacting obliquely in a 1940’s era waterfront bar. It was a great start, but then stopped cold after about 550 words. I found I had questions to answer before continuing.

When the female character started directly addressing one of the male characters, he surprised me, because he is pretty much a jerk. Why is he like that? How is she going to react? Could anything develop between them after him being such an ass? Will she take his put-off manner as a challenge, or forget about him? How will the third character fit into all of this?

I don’t often outline exactly where I want a story to go when I start writing it. I usually have some vague idea of how I want it to end and a few events that I want to happen along the way. But sometimes the characters don’t want to go there. This story is a case where the characters themselves are directing the story, much as a well-run role-playing campaign should unfold. The intriguing thing to me is that I am learning about the characters as they are coming out, and I’m wondering what’s going to happen to them, as if I weren’t in control of their destinies. I suspect that this will make the piece strongly character driven, but it may be short on plot. I may have to shoehorn some of my own events in there to make it palatable.

I bought a ticket to go see Johnny A at the Gothic next Tuesday. I’m really looking forward to seeing him perform, and hopefully I will be able to get a fairly close seat.

Distraction or Procrastination?

I’m spending the day supervising my son as he works off a significant monetary debt that he owes to his mother. The plan was that I would set him to work, be available for questions, and get some writing done.

So far, he’s done a decent amount of work and I’ve been very distracted. However, considering what Bruce Holland Rogers says in Word Work, I wonder if my son is actually the source of my distraction or if I’m distracting myself. I doubt if I would be getting much worthwhile fiction or poetry writing done right now, with him saying “Hey Dad, you know what?” every few minutes, but I could at least be working on revisions or outlining a story.

In Word Work, Rogers outlines several different types and aspects of procrastination, and that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. However, I’m also kind of fooling myself into working around it, because I’m writing something — and that something is acknowledging the procrastination. No, it’s not a good justification for not doing the real writing, but it is making me examine and be aware of the procrastination, and that’s part of the purpose of this creativity journal.

I got e-mail from Melanie Tem today, asking if I would bring my guitar to our next writing class. She wants to examine the storytelling aspects of “Ode to Billy Joe” by Bobbie Gentry. I’ve got the music and the lyrics for that, so it should be fun. I’ve often thought that song was similar to Hemingway’s “The Hills Like White Elephants” in that it hints at serious topics without ever directly addressing them.

It’s about lunch time, so I’m going to go pick something up for Keith and me. He’s doing a pretty good job, but this will only go part of the way to paying back his Mom.

Failing Memory and Stereos

There used to be a different page here, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what the topic was, and the file is not on my backup tape. I hate that feeling. I guess it’s possible that I just missed a day, but I thought I had an August 29th file in here. Hmmm …

Ah! I remember! I was planning to go to an open mic poetry reading at Coffee on the Lowell this night, but when I got home I found out that my wife had bought me an early birthday present and she wanted me to open it. It was a new home stereo system, and I spent the next hour and a half playing around with it and setting it up. That was a very sweet gesture for her to make, especially since my birthday isn’t for another month!

Anyway, I didn’t make it to Coffee on the Lowell, but I did get inspired to write a silly little poem anyway. Maybe next month I can present it as a small bit of comedy at the open mic.

Sophie’s Wor(l)d Work

As I promised yesterday, I did write a review of Sophie’s World today. I was a little surprised that the review didn’t come out as positive as I expected; I genuinely enjoyed the book, but I’m afraid the review may not come across that way. Thanks to Michael Main for introducing me to Jostein Gaarder’s work. (By the way, Michael, I saw the picture of the neon computer on your site, and I’m suitably jealous.)

I also started reading Bruce Holland Rogers’ Word Work today. I’m definitely biased here, since I’ve studied writing with Bruce, but it felt like he was talking to my soul in the first fifty pages. I didn’t want to return to work after lunch; I wanted to read and write. The man certainly has an infectious passion for his chosen craft.

I also replaced all of the links to my old e-mail address on this website. All new mail should go to lytspeed_web@comcast.net now. If you see any other e-mail links that I missed, please let me know.