There’s nothing like having a multitude of ideas ready to be transformed and transposed onto paper or type. I recently made the mistake of flipping through an old Sci-fi, Fantasy, and Horror writer’s guide filled with tips from the likes of Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, Marion Zimmer Bradley and so on. It sucked me in and then I was pushed out with a thousand new story ideas and like no time to fulfill them. That’s the beauty of writing I guess.
It’s always a battle between experiencing my own adventures and writing about my characters’. So I do my best to get out and live, because without experience what’s the point in writing? But then I’m keeping my stories waiting and that can just mess with your head. Nobody needs to have nightmares of their own creations haunting them.
Last night I ended up starting a new short story after putting the kids to bed. That’s generally when the magic happens. Sure writing a kiddie story works when you’re testing them out on your children but adult stories are a whole other beast. I can’t read nor write anything with sex and/or violence while my girls are awake. It just doesn’t work, I end up holding back and destroying the whole concept.
It’s not always sound, but running by day gives me ideas to write at night, and somehow I find balance. After doing this enough I finally understand how easily a writer becomes a hermit. Sure, I could pump out a bunch of novels if I lock myself away alone in a cabin, but I’m pretty sure that everything I’d write wouldn’t stand the test of time. I’m not even sure that any of my stories will regardless, but I owe it to myself to go out an live while exploring my abilities as well. It’s worth a shot.