your ideas?” This has led to quips from authors meant to be funny and to show
the silliness of the question asked. Sci-Fi writer Neil Gaiman used to reply, “From
the Idea-of-the-Month Club.” I’ve heard a dozen other such responses. Writers
tend to hate the question, perhaps because it is so difficult to explain to
those who do not routinely traffic in story creation.
that defies description. Some novelists are idea machines; others can only
manage one or two book-worthy stories. Idea wrangling is part of being a
working writer. We search for ideas liked Forty-Niners searched for gold near
need ideas. So do nonfiction writers. We writers must not only have brains
buzzing with stories, but we must be able to weed through them to find those
that fit us, fit the market, and fit our readers. That ain’t always easy.
tendency to think of the writer “coming up” with an idea. Back to the lead
question: Where do you get your ideas? As time continues to drag me downstream
in this life it occurs to me that maybe I’ve been thinking about this process
all wrong. Maybe we don’t “get” ideas. Maybe ideas “get” us. Think about this
quote from Stephen King:
“Let’s get one thing clear right now, shall we? There is no
Idea Dump, no Story Central, no Island of the Buried Bestsellers; good story
ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of
the empty sky: two previously unrelated ideas come together and make something
new under the sun. Your job isn’t to find these ideas but to recognize them
when they show up.” (Stephen King, On
Writing, Scribner, 2000, p. 37)
don’t find ideas, we recognize them.
we haven’t been saying things backwards. Do we have ideas, or do ideas have us?
Do I have a story or does a story have me? That’s not as mystical as it sounds.
I’ve noticed that the stories I’ve done best with have haunted and hunted me. I
didn’t sit down and say, “I think I’ll come up with a new idea.” Instead, I
tripped over them. They sneak into my brain through my subconscious, crouch for
a time, then spring up and say, “Look at me!” Then like a child who sees a toy
in the store he wants, starts badgering his mom with unrelenting pleas.
after I left Children’s Hospital in San Diego where I had just made a
ministerial visit. My book, A Ship
Possessed, surfaced from a newspaper article about a WWII sub
that ran aground in South Korea. The premise for Angel came for a verse in Galatians. And so it goes. All of these
ideas as well as almost all other ideas have found me—I didn’t find them.
“Here’s another news flash for everyone who has ever asked a
writer where he gets his ideas. Or she. Getting ideas is the least difficult
part of the process. What’s hard, really hard, is making those ideas come
together in a well-conceived, compelling story. So many of those ideas that
seem wonderful at first blush end up leading nowhere. They won’t sustain the
weight of a story. They won’t spin out past a few pages. They won’t lead to
something insightful and true.
“Ideas are like chocolates, as Forrest Gump might say. You
never know what you are going to get.” (Terry Brooks, Sometimes the Magic Works, Ballantine Publishing Group, 2003, p. 66).