A World of Pure Imagination

Last weekend I finally finished the first draft of a thing I am physically incapable of talking about. Now it’s sitting in a folder on my computer, waiting for me to come back to it and give it the rewrite it desperately needs.

I say that because right now it is terrible, and I don’t mean that in an aw, shucks way. I mean that it might actually be pages and pages of random nouns and verbs strung together. The typing monkeys everyone is always talking about are probably producing an exact copy of it at this moment just by slamming their fists into the keyboard. I’m afraid to open The Folder because I’m worried I spent hours and hours of my life working on something and I could have produced the same result by jumbling up a dictionary.

Actually, shredding a dictionary and gluing it back together sounds like more fun than writing.

Actually, shredding a dictionary and gluing it back together sounds like more fun than writing.

The good news is that Stephen King said I don’t have to face The Folder for six weeks. He didn’t say that to me personally. (I don’t see that conversation going well: “Wait to edit your first draft for six weeks, Stephanie, so you’re not as attached to the bad parts but you can also see the good parts,” he says. “Great tip, Steve,” I say. “By the way, I just finished reading Carrie and I thought it was really messed up how mean those teenagers were to the pigs. Oh, and also to Carrie.”) He’d give you the same advice if you read On Writing. I trust him. The man’s written more than 50 books over the course of his career.

That’s probably because the second part of his tip is to start working on a different project while you’re waiting for the six weeks to pass. This appealed to me. Overlapping projects, I thought. That guy must get so much stuff done. I bet Stephen King has very ambitious to-do lists.

So that night I sat down to brainstorm what I should write about next. Only I didn’t get very far because I wasn’t sure where to start. I don’t know where ideas come from.

How I Get Ideas for Blog Posts

Something embarrassing happens to me and I need to talk about it.

I overthink something silly and I need to talk about it.

I see my cat and I need to talk about it.

Something has suddenly become a big deal to me and I need to talk about it.

Something scares me and I need to talk about it.

Basically I have a blog so I can talk about myself. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. The thing waiting in The Folder is not about me, precisely (my greatest fear is that it’s not about anything at all), but it is about specific situations in which a person very like me might find themselves, based on specific situations in which a person exactly like me found herself.

That may have been the most confusing thing I've ever written. Besides the draft I just finished, I mean.

That may have been the most confusing thing I’ve ever written. Besides the draft I just finished, I mean.

I could talk about myself for years and years, and I have — this blog is almost five years old. But yesterday it occurred to me that maybe people don’t want to hear about me for once. So I tried to think of some things to write about that aren’t me, and this is what came out:

List #1 from my Brainstorming Session

  1. Balloon factories
  2. An African safari where everyone is murdered
  3. Entire books written by cats!
  4. What’s hiding in my basement crawlspace?
  5. Losing all feeling everywhere but your tongue so you have to lick stuff to fully experience life
  6. The princess of Murlepistan

If you’re baffled by that list, I am too. None of them sound like writing prompts. In fact, that list mostly sounds like a dream Salvador Dalí had and briefly considered painting before deciding it was too weird, even for him.

"It just seems a little out there..."

“It just seems a little out there…”

I tried again, this time using dramatic situations instead of… whatever that first list was.

List #2 from my Brainstorming Session

  1. Every book in the world vanishes
  2. You come home to find someone has moved into your house while you were away and no one believes you were there first.
  3. Your tour bus crashes into an ancient burial ground
  4. You wake up one morning and your leg has fallen off
  5. A rollercoaster collapses. You weren’t on it or near it or anything. You just heard about it.

I don’t think I’m doing this right.

I’m pretty sure ideas come from experiences you have, and observations you make about the world, and weird little snippets of things that get caught in your brain and you’re not sure why. I think sometimes they come from dreams, sometimes they come from the books someone else wrote about a dream they had and sometimes they come from nowhere while you’re riding on a train. Something pops into your head and then your imagination takes it from there.

So I’ll wait around a little longer and hope a good one pops into my head. And in the meantime, I’ll get started on the story of the morning that the princess of Murlepistan’s leg fell off, causing her to miss the tour bus to a balloon factory where none of the workers can feel with anything except their tongues.

Wake Me up Before You Go-Go

I firmly believe that every single person has one incredible talent. Every individual has one thing they can do that blows all the competition out of the water. Some people are natural theoretical physicists. Others create awe-inspiring works of art. Still others are always able to find primo parking spots wherever they go.

I defy you to find a spot that's any closer to that house.

I defy you to find a spot that’s any closer to that house.

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She’s (Not) Leaving Home

There are a lot of things I struggle with. Making friends, for example. Confronting jerks, avoiding celery, deciding if listening to an audiobook counts as reading or not. These are my crosses to bear. But the most difficult thing for me to do in the whole, entire world — a world full of potential friends and jerks, celery and audiobooks — is to leave the house.

If I was the independently wealthy sort, I would never, ever, ever leave my home. Well. I might occasionally venture out to my garden to glare at the plants that refuse to grow, but other than that, you would never see me out there. Yes, if I had my way I would be a hermit.

No, the other kind of hermit.

That’s not what I mean.

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All I Wanna Do Is Have Some Fun

I’m the lead copyeditor in my office. The other day I overheard my boss telling someone not to get hung up editing text because, she said, she doesn’t know anyone who cares as much about grammar as I do.

Wow, I thought. What a compliment. I do love grammar. I’m so glad it shows!

I'm pretty sure this means I'm the coolest!

I’m pretty sure this means I’m the coolest!

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Everybody’s Got Something to Hide, Except for Me and My Monkey

Remember that time I was mad at every single person and object on the entire planet for no reason at all? I figured out what my problem was.

I had way too many monkeys.

Not, like, actual monkeys. I should back up.

Last week I asked my boss, Ike, if it was alright for me to stop going to a meeting that always leaves me with a feeling similar to the kind one might experience after repeatedly slamming one’s head into a brick wall.

A brick wall that won't listen to any of your ideas and gets really upset when you question it.

A brick wall that won’t listen to any of your ideas and gets really upset when you question it.

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