When the fallow period starts stretching on, however, then I
get worried. I’d like to make a living at this, which means I have to produce
on a regular basis. If no books get written then nothing goes to market,
nothing sells, and I don’t get those nice checks and royalty payments that keep
me in gas and groceries and cable TV.
It's not a question of ideas, or a lack of ideas. My head is stuffed with characters, plots, scenes, whole series even. The trouble is prying them loose. Long ago I discovered I can only work on on thing at a time, and I don't get to choose which thing that is. Call it inspiration, the muse, a cantankerous subconscious bent on driving me buggy, whatever. When the story's ready, it'll tell me. Then I get to write it, and not one second before.
Jogging the stubborn little buggers loose from the pileup gets to be a strain. This is why I keep spiral notebooks, and have pens stashed all over the house.
Just because I'm not working on something in particular doesn't mean I'm not writing. I make it a point to write something every day. All those scenes, characters, ideas, etc. get jotted down in the notebooks. Sometimes I'll start a story and have it go bust on me. Or I'll write scenes as they occur to me and hope they'll make sense when I string them together later on. Once I've got a notebook filled, I stick it in the closet and start a new one. That way nothing gets lost. Buried among the shoes, maybe, but never lost.
Every now and then, when I'm at a loss for something to work on, I do inventory.
After Slayer went out I found myself stuck on a block that just wouldn't let up. I tried to write a couple of books but they just fizzled out of me. I did a lot of daily flash scenes and watched a lot of TV. Finally I hauled out a couple of the spiral notebooks (the 5-subject ones; no messing around!) and went panning for gold.
Found some! Did I ever. I'd decided to go back to a story I'd previously abandoned and give it another go. Mostly I was looking for the random scenes I'd written down to get them out of my head. While looking for that story, I found the start of another that I'd fiddled with for two pages or so before it petered out. This time it spoke to me. It said, "Hey, with a little tweaking you could make these stories relate to each other and turn it into a series. I'll even give you some extra characters. If you set the series in Philly, it'll give you an excuse to drive down and hike around Fairmount Park. Just tell yourself you're doing research." That muse, what a sneaky bitch.
So now I'm back at work, attempting two stories at once. I figure one or the other will claw its way to the top and I'll write that one first, then do the second one. By then I might have ideas for a third, or maybe something entirely new will hit me out of the blue. It's happened before.
As for inventory, I'm still at it. I may dig up some ideas I can use for this series. It also gives me something productive to do during long commercial breaks on TV. Sure, I could write, but c'mon. You know how I am about work.
It's not a question of ideas, or a lack of ideas. My head is stuffed with characters, plots, scenes, whole series even. The trouble is prying them loose. Long ago I discovered I can only work on on thing at a time, and I don't get to choose which thing that is. Call it inspiration, the muse, a cantankerous subconscious bent on driving me buggy, whatever. When the story's ready, it'll tell me. Then I get to write it, and not one second before.
Jogging the stubborn little buggers loose from the pileup gets to be a strain. This is why I keep spiral notebooks, and have pens stashed all over the house.
Just because I'm not working on something in particular doesn't mean I'm not writing. I make it a point to write something every day. All those scenes, characters, ideas, etc. get jotted down in the notebooks. Sometimes I'll start a story and have it go bust on me. Or I'll write scenes as they occur to me and hope they'll make sense when I string them together later on. Once I've got a notebook filled, I stick it in the closet and start a new one. That way nothing gets lost. Buried among the shoes, maybe, but never lost.
Every now and then, when I'm at a loss for something to work on, I do inventory.
After Slayer went out I found myself stuck on a block that just wouldn't let up. I tried to write a couple of books but they just fizzled out of me. I did a lot of daily flash scenes and watched a lot of TV. Finally I hauled out a couple of the spiral notebooks (the 5-subject ones; no messing around!) and went panning for gold.
Found some! Did I ever. I'd decided to go back to a story I'd previously abandoned and give it another go. Mostly I was looking for the random scenes I'd written down to get them out of my head. While looking for that story, I found the start of another that I'd fiddled with for two pages or so before it petered out. This time it spoke to me. It said, "Hey, with a little tweaking you could make these stories relate to each other and turn it into a series. I'll even give you some extra characters. If you set the series in Philly, it'll give you an excuse to drive down and hike around Fairmount Park. Just tell yourself you're doing research." That muse, what a sneaky bitch.
So now I'm back at work, attempting two stories at once. I figure one or the other will claw its way to the top and I'll write that one first, then do the second one. By then I might have ideas for a third, or maybe something entirely new will hit me out of the blue. It's happened before.
As for inventory, I'm still at it. I may dig up some ideas I can use for this series. It also gives me something productive to do during long commercial breaks on TV. Sure, I could write, but c'mon. You know how I am about work.