Refilling the Well

Sometimes

you empty your well

and

need to refill it

so

you find a lake

and a kayak

and you set off

and all is quiet

and

the sky so blue

the clouds so white

above

and

below

and

you stop

and let the well

refill

ahhhhhh

you say

ahhhhhh

xx

The Truck

Spotted this blue truck

on my walk today

blue truck blue truck

stopped me in my tracks

Such a truck!

There's a whole story

right there

in that blue truck

you hear it?

you feel it?

Man!

Such a truck!

This is why writers don't run out of

ideas

because you can be just walking along

and

come upon

such a thing

as 

this

blue

truck

and your mind starts whirring

and you want to know 

where it's been

and who drives it

and where it's going

you want to lean on its shiny fender

and listen

you want to hug

a

truck

you want to thank

that truck

for being

along your path

Oh, man!

. . 

xx

Beauty and the Ice

(click to enlarge)

Like seeds of ideas

held in reserve

to be released

one day

. . .

So much graceful

iced beauty

here

. . .

xx

The Great Unexpected: Idea? Fear?

It is not easy to answer the question: "Where did you get the idea for this [or any] book?"  A book is not one idea. It is thousands.

But: What was that very first spark? 

Recently–prior to the Sandy Hook tragedy–I attempted to answer that question for an interview about The Great Unexpected:

    Aware that so many children are more fearful now than when I was young, I hoped to create a story in which the unexpected could be something great instead of something to be feared.  Two other notions wrapped themselves around this idea. One was how closely the 'real' merges with the imaginary in the lives of young people. Another notion was the intricate connections between people–some obvious and some not. . .  

   And so evolved this story of two young girls: in whom the real and imaginary merge; who discover intricate connections between people and places; and who learn that the unexpected can be great.

Now, post-Sandy-Hook-tragedy, I am especially mindful of the fear so many of those students and teachers must have felt, and of the fear which the survivors continue to feel.  I wish I could ease it. I hope that 'intricate connections' in their lives will sustain them; I hope that the living and the dead will unite in their minds and hearts; and I hope that one day the survivors will again be able to look forward to the unexpected. 

The Lightness of Becoming

There is a point

in the writing of a story

when ideas and images

burst open

and fling themselves

here and there

and you scurry

to 

catch

them

before they fly

away.

Where do you get your ideas?

The question I am most often asked is, "Where do you get your ideas?"

The seeds for ideas are everywhere: in everything you see and hear and touch and feel. Combine this seed with that seed, and off you go.

Above might look like "a bigga mess" on the deck.

You look closer and you see nuts.

  You kneel down and look closely at one of those nuts:

Pretty interesting thing, that little nut.  Wonder what's inside?

Chop it open.  Huh.  Who might want that nut?

Ah, my nosy friend, the squirrel.

And your mind is off and running. Where is she taking that nut? What does her home look like? Does she have a family?

No, I don't normally write about squirrels, but I get my story ideas the same way.  That crowd of people over there - look at that one boy - look more closely - what's in his hand? - where is he going? - who are his friends? - what's bothering him?

Off you go . . .