Waiting for Ideas

In my previous entry I wrote about that stew writers get into when they are trying to decide what to write about next. The musing itself apparently pushed some nerve cells into action.

Within minutes, perhaps a day or two, I fell into writing a story that had been on my mind for more than a year. I don’t know why it suddenly seemed to be the right time, but that is one of the mysteries of writing. There is probably a solid analogy out there in the world of mechanical games, the kind at carnivals or in lobbies of giant we-sell-everything stores, where an arm with three or four prongs grasps at stuffed animals or balls or whatever fills the bottom of the bin and, for the occasional lucky customer, deposits one down the gift chute.  So an old idea appeared and I’m going with it. The indecision will return another day.

I often tell others to write themselves into a: character/ story/ situation/ essay/ scene. I should take my advice more often.

Tomorrow: Fab Rejections

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About Carolyn

I live in Washington, D.C., write, teach, try to eat the requisite fruits and veggies daily, and avoid caffeine after 2 pm. I wonder about things a lot -- like why "pretty" means "pretty" and "not so much" and if I can ever perfect the single-portion, no-knead, daily baguette and how many people realize that Beau Brummel had a lot to do with our desire to bathe daily -- those of us who do in fact "take the daily."
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