Writers are always searching, and rarely finding, that one special idea that will turn into some magnificent creation, which transcends all boundaries and leaves a lasting imprint on the soul of its reader. I find that non-writers assume these ideas come freely and from some imaginary ever flowing stream of “great ideas.” Well, as any writer will tell you, this is not the case at all. Sure, there are days where the ideas seem to come in droves. But rarely are they anything worthwhile and by the time you sift through the remnants of the flood, what’s left is barely more than soggy furniture and a smelly carpet. Though, the bills seem to remain intact. How is that always the case?
Anyway, I digress. For me, the ideas that I stick with are those that come from a singular word, phrase, or image. The seed is planted and I begin to nourish it lovingly as it grows into a shoot and if I water it enough, it starts to bud. Now I must take extra special care of that bud because if I don’t, it will shrivel up and die. But if I do, well, that’s when the bud opens up and reveals its beautiful core. Eventually winter arrives and I must hack away the frostbitten branches and clear the ground of autumn’s remains so that I may see that beautiful core unfettered.
I must ensure that I am always conscious of my surroundings, as I never know when an idea will strike. It might bowl me over in its excitement, or it might gently nudge at my ankle. But I will be ready to capture it in whatever form it chooses to present itself to me.
A Lady Running Around Frantically With An Idea Net