Babel Clash

Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable. ~Francis Bacon

I’m writing a book at the moment.

This is not unusual. I’m always writing a book. I don’t want to discuss it too much, because I might jinx myself. But I will say one thing: this latest project is my answer to the itch and urge to explore something new.

Kelley spoke about restlessness yesterday. I don’t know whether or not this book will lead into a new series, but it could. And despite the extra work, I’ll be happy to have another playground to build sandcastles in.

I’m asked most about where I get my ideas, where inspiration comes from. Those are such hard questions, because the answer is: I don’t know. Inspiration is elusive – and finding it, or being found — is like being hit by lightning. Unexpected and unpredictable.

Inspiration is not a calculation. It’s a force of nature. Your nature, born of an unconscious lifetime. It’s like dealing with any other gut instinct – you have to listen to it, cultivate it. Show some trust.

Which is easier said than done, because trust alone doesn’t make a great story, or solve plot holes or write a fight scene. It doesn’t help you turn a description of the shining moon into a glint on broken glass (to paraphrase Anton Chekov).

But trust, friends, is the same as faith. And when you’re in the trenches, when you’re alone with your story in the middle of the night and you’re exhausted, and the end is nowhere in sight, you need to draw on that faith – in yourself and in the idea. You need to reach for the inspiration that struck you, and use it to keep the fire burning.

The fire is always burning.

I just spent today driving up from Los Angeles to Monterey, along the coastal CA-1 North route. In the morning, the light was thin and wane. By mid-day, clouds had occluded the sun and made the light murky. Early afternoon brought a sunshine that illuminated everything like a painting by Turner, making each landscape around each bend stand out in sharp relief. By late afternoon, a richness had invaded those same landscapes as the sun began to set.

Just driving through these amazing coastal settings, let alone stopping alone the way, has already inspired all kinds of thoughts for future stories. The texture, the way the scrub and earth pick up richness and lose it, the verdigris of undergrowth racing down the side of mountains, the stark boldness of the blue sea, the fireworks explosions of golden reeds appearing between tufts of dull green grass and stunted trees–all of this combined with the variety of sea smells, the kelp and shells and sand black and light on the beaches almost overwhelms the mind, but also fortifies it.

Whether it’s characters or settings or something else entirely, I know this drive through unfamiliar territory will crop up in my fiction. It brings to mind as well something the writer Jon Courtney Grimwood said on a panel once, about having to visit a place in order to write about it. This may be true of novels set in real locations, but it’s also true of fantasy novels. Today, I picked up a hundred different entry points to story.

For anyone reading who creates things, whether stories or something more physical–what kinds of catalysts spark your imagination?