Inspiration is Everywhere Part 2# (blog post 5 of series)

An old observation diary

Today’s post is a continuation from last week where I shared some creative exercises that have helped me understand that when it comes to writing, and creating, you can find inspiration in the everyday ~ if you pay enough attention, stay curious, and let your imagination run wild!

When I deliver creative writing workshops I encourage participants to think of fun ways they can experiment with their writing. Often writers can put a lot of pressure on themselves, especially if working to deadlines, or expectations. It can also be daunting if you think a story should contain ‘complicated’ words or be a certain length.

I find a good way to take the pressure off, and to stop over-thinking, is to engage in writing tasks which don’t require a lot of words, and in fact make you start to look at words in a completely different way.

A challenge I took part in years ago, (just for fun, with friends), was to try and write stories composed of only three letter words (which then extended out to write stories with four letter words, five letter words – you get the idea!).

I amazed myself with being able to write not one, but quite a few, very short stories composed of three letter words. I’m sharing one of them below, which turned into a bit of a philosophical story.

3 Letter Word Story Example

Pat Woo and the Sun


One day Pat Woo saw the sun dip and tip out the sky. 
”Wow! See the sun!”

Pat Woo saw the sun run and Pat ran too. The sun set off for the day. One sun ray hit the ill cow. Pat saw the cow fly – set out for the sky. 

“Moo! Pat Woo! The cow can fly!”

Pat Woo saw the sun run and dip. Its ray hit the old rat. The old rat was lit. The rat got fit – saw the sky; his old eye now new. The rat saw the sun; saw Pat Woo.

“Pat Woo! The rat can see!”

One ray hit the cod. Pat Woo saw its fin dip; saw the cod nod and the cod got out the sea net.

“Pat Woo! The cod will not die!”
”Hot sun you are ace.” Pat Woo had joy for the sun. 

The sun had fun. Pat Woo did too – the day Pat Woo saw the sun dip and tip out the sky.

Why don’t you give this a go yourself? If you’re part of a creative writing group, it might a fun warm-up task to try to wake up the creative side of your brain.

As an extension of last week’s ‘Small Stones’ exercise, I’m going to challenge you to keep a more general ‘observation diary’. This can take the form of visual notes such as photographs, or scribbles (or notes in your phone), of interesting things you notice during your day-to-day. The Small Stones were quite creative paragraphs or lines, but in an observation diary you might want to capture musings and reflections on things in the news, things you overhear etc, anything really which you think one day could form part of a story.

Take a Photograph a Day

Was this a real girl?
Why is there a shoe in the cage with the skeleton?

I’m a very visual writer and I love taking photographs. You can start to build a ‘photographic’ observation diary by taking at least one interesting photograph every day. This could be anything which catches your attention; an abandoned shoe lying at the side of the road, an interesting sculpture you walk past every day, a strange doll in the window of a shop… You can start thinking about the story behind the image there and then, but often it might take a while for a proper idea to form. And that’s fine. Because now you’ve stored the photograph somewhere on your phone, you can return to this later. You might even want to combine the small stones tasks (see the post here for examples), with your photographs.

I’ve shared some photographs above I took when on various trips across the years, which I then later turned into short stories.

The heart photograph was a print which hung in the staircase of a Paris hotel I stayed in during my first solo trip abroad. I spent three nights in Paris and enjoyed wandering the streets alone, and it was during this time, passing by this print every day, I started to form the idea for a short story ‘Only You’ where a jilted bride spends her honeymoon alone in Paris. The story was runner-up in a competition, and broadcast on Hospital Radio. They sent me a CD recording of an actor reading it aloud, which was quite special. I loved hearing my words come to life.

If you enjoy finding inspiration from photographs check out the Scottish Book Trust 50 word story competition here They provide monthly photographic prompts

Listen to conversations

When I say listen to conversations, I mean within reason, as obviously it’s a bit rude to invade others’ privacy. But if you’re on a train or bus where your fellow passengers insist on talking loudly to one another (or on their phone), then naturally you will probably pick up interesting snippets of conversations throughout your day.

In an old ‘observation diary’ (where I used to write down thoughts that randomly popped into my head, interesting facts or stories I came across on social media or in the news, as well as overheard conversations) I found these snippets:

A man and a woman in conversation: “Tommy, you’re being really unfair. You’re stopping me from going to Hollywood. You’re being really bad to me with the brain transplant thing. I know I’ve had at least four brain transplants behind my back.” On the surface, most passengers would dismiss this woman as talking nonsense. But what if the man she is with is a mad scientist, and she’s the subject of numerous experiments, and is starting to rebel?

A teenage girl was sitting behind me on one train journey, talking loudly into her phone, “She fell out with me when I was camping because she said I never texted, but I couldn’t text because seriously I didn’t have reception… and then I ended up sitting with her all night on a night out so she never felt left out… I hate falling out with people, the thought of someone hating me, or having a problem with me…” At this point a boy nearby asks me if I’ve got a pen. He then returns to his seat to scribble something on a bit of paper and when he gets up at his stop he chucks a note at the girl before walking off.

The girl then shrieks into her phone, telling the person on the other end, “Oh my f-ing God. A guy just threw a note at me on the way off his train. Wait, wait. His name is Ryan. I swear… wait… he must have been listening to my conversation. How rude, haha.” (Newsflash girl, I think we’re all now listening)… “He’s said, You are too beautiful to have friends who are mean to you. Add me to facebook and let me make you smile.”

Now depending how your writer brain works, this could either be the start of a romantic novel or a true-crime type stalker thriller….

Next time I’ll be writing more about the inspiration behind my books.

Happy writing!

Maybe this time

Our White Agate wedding oathing stone/crystal (photo by Heyes Images)

When thinking over today’s prompt: write about an hour that changed my life, the temptation was to try to think of a big dramatic event, but when I was thinking about hours that have changed my life significantly they’ve not happened in isolation, and most often have occurred because I’ve been brave enough to put myself out there, go after new opportunities and remain open-minded and curious.

There have been significant hours where I’ve filled out important course applications, important job applications, taken a deep breath and sent my writing out into the world to be read…

Signed up for a dating site again, putting myself out there, hoping, maybe this time…

And a message that popped up from that dating site then led to an hour which did change my life in a very pleasant, unexpected way. When I met my now husband.

And thinking back I had no idea I was walking towards my last first date.

And the man running down the street towards me, ten minutes late, was actually perfectly on time, meeting me when I felt in the right place and ready for him.

That first hour we spent time getting to know each other, checking we were who we hoped, discovering if we matched up to the online dating persona (or in my husband’s case surpassing it seeing as he had written in his profile he had a peg leg and sold golf balls at the Barras). I remember the detail of the day – it was late October and unnaturally warm and I remember the detail of him… in those first couple of minutes the flash of first impressions when the sun shone in his eyes, reflecting shades of green and his smile was a mix of confidence and youthful energy and there was always a sense of calm, and later laughter.

Our relationship unfolded so naturally from that initial hour onwards that I never paused to think about the significance of that first meeting, of where it might go, because it just….went…flowed naturally without drama.

And I still remember that spark of anticipation when he sent me a message after we met to tell me he got a parking ticket, but I was totally worth it.

And then I definitely thought, maybe this time…

The Opposite of Cake

Pixabay image by Rotten77

Skipping ahead to prompt 13 on the list, ‘What is the opposite of cake’ as I thought this is probably one of the most random ones and I need to be creative here. (Also, it’s Bake Off night, which I will now be watching on catch-up!). I delivered an enjoyable flash fiction workshop this afternoon at Erskine Writers and the fact this post has turned into a flash fiction piece shows how much I enjoy the form.

When I was thinking about the opposite of cake, my immediate thought was salad. I decided to ask the internet what it thought, and it took me to Thesarus.plus which gave me this list of ‘Cake Atonyms’ (Atonym is defined as: a word opposite in meaning to another)

 bear · beast · chore · headache · horror show · killer · labour · murder. pain.

All quite dramatic, and I guess thesarus is thinking of cake in terms of phrases such as ‘piece of cake’ and ‘have your cake and eat it’. Anyway, here’s what these words sparked off in my brain:

The Opposite of Cake

I was promised cake at this party. I half-starved myself on salad and crackers earlier today and all I can see are canapes the size of my pinkie getting distributed around the room. One of the waiters who is serving reminds me of a bear – he’s about six foot tall, massive shoulders, fuzzy beard. He catches me staring and thrusts a tray of mini pastry-somethings under my nose and I take three and stuff them in my mouth all at once, just as Jeremy turns his head and catches my eye, and nudges his new fiancé to turn around too. So now they’re both smiling and walking towards me and I’m trying to desperately deflate my hamster cheeks so I can smile back and look like I’m having a GREAT TIME.

“Frances, so lovely to see you.” Saffron shakes my hand, but it’s more of a grab my fingers and cling kind of gesture and I find myself squeezing her thumb awkwardly and I’m already eyeing the free bar fantasising about the headache it’s going to give me. Saffron runs a manicured hand down my jacket sleeve, eyeing the pattern curiously. “Gosh, this feels divine. Is it a Westwood?” Jeremy is adjusting his bow tie beside her, his smile straining and I know he wants me to lie.

“No, it’s a Tumu,” I reply, enjoying the confusion on both of their faces.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” she says.

“Really, they’re quite awful. Fans of child labour, and often pilfer your credit card details. But I’m a sucker for pretty patterns, what can I say.”

Jeremy looks like he wants to murder me and Saffron pauses, considering if I’m being serious, then decides I can’t possibly be and hee- haw laughs me over to meet her friends, who are all wearing badges with the new company logo. I realise with a startle that must have been what the boy at the door was trying to give me, and he wasn’t actually slipping me a tip to take his coat.

I try to join in with the small talk but I prefer big talk so I wander off to the bar and then peruse the tables of tiny sandwiches and sushi. Still no cake.

Jeremy clambers up to the make-shift stage with Saffron by his side and they give me a name-check, to thank me for my initial involvement in the ideas stage of the app, when I was Jeremy’s fiancé and Saffron was the face of the health and well-being marketing strategy, after investing a heavy amount of her family money into the start-up.

The start-up has now taken off. Jeremy also took off. And really it was for the best because he looks at home here, whereas I’d rather actually be at home, doing the chores even, anything to take me away from this pompous horror show of well-groomed ‘rising stars’ I don’t want to talk to.

Five drinks down I corner Jeremy and he looks scared, like I’m some crazed killer.

“Relax,” I hold up a hand, realising he thinks I’m upset about them and the company when he should know their pay-off was enough to sweeten any lingering pain. “I was just wondering where is the cake? You promised me cake.”

Jeremy lets out a shrill laugh, his body deflating with relief. “Did I? Oh, sorry. Saffron is gluten and sugar-free so we decided to spend the cake money on the badges instead. Aren’t they cute?” He’s pinned his in the middle of his bow tie and now I feel like grabbing the badge and murdering him with it.

He pats me on the shoulder then walks off and that’s it, the party is over. I look up to see the waiter from earlier beckoning me towards the kitchen.

I flash him a confused smile, curiosity making me follow. He is standing by an open fridge, and inside is the most magnificent chocolate cake, with a mutilated couple dancing on top.

“It’s supposed to be Beauty and the Beast, but that part didn’t quite work out.” He makes a face. “I run a cake decorating class here on Tuesday nights. I heard you talking about the lack of cake…”

And then we’re sitting sampling the sweetness and he makes me laugh, and I think how Jeremy and Saffron and this whole night has been the opposite of cake, right up until this moment. The waiter cuts me another slice and I bask in the sugar high.

Sandcastle

Today’s November writing challenge is to use an image as a prompt.

The image above is my prompt and my little piece of fiction below is the result. I scrolled through photos on my phone on my commute home from work and came across this little sandcastle, spotted on a beach in Oban back in 2019. I gave myself an hour between dinner and Bake Off (which is on in the background just now) to write something, so it’s not polished but I’m glad I got something down on paper.

Life Goals

I’ve been on a bit of a writing hiatus lately hence the lack of posts on here. I got married last month and wedding planning and admin took over a bit, alongside day job and other life stuff, meaning something had to give. I take my hat off to writers I read about in interviews who describe their chaotic lives and how they will grab every spare moment to still get words down on paper. Words were still there in my head, with scenes from a new book playing out often, but I just didn’t have the energy or headspace to really get stuck in. I’m excited to give some new focus to my creative life again, with my first goal to finish edits on a book I finished a while back (and put to one side after some feedback). This will hopefully be out by the end of this year, or the start of next, depending how fast I work.

I had a wonderful day on my wedding and naturally when big life events like this take place I think it makes you reflect on life in general. The playlist we chose for our wedding reception contained key songs from pinnacle moments of our youth and when surrounded by friends from different walks of life it made me feel lucky, and also happy and content with a real sense of ‘being in the right place at the right time.’

During our mini-moon to Arran I ventured out on a walk myself along the beach (as my new hubbie rested up to recover from a cold!). I stopped off at an amazing bakery to buy a sausage roll and as I sat on a bench watching the waves lap against the shore it reminded me of all of trips I went on during my 30s. I embraced the single life for most of my 30s and feel grateful for the adventures I went on to Paris alone, twice, where I sat eating a pastry on a bench in Jardin De Luxembourg feeling then too, I was in the right place, at the right time. When I met my husband in my late 30s I was truly happy with who I was, and what I had accomplished. Too often I feel we are made to feel pressured by some arbitrary timeline of expectation and I am so glad real love arrived a bit later in life for me. My husband joked when we first got together he had been in ‘the boyfriend oven’ getting ready for me and I loved this description as I think I was also in my own oven getting ready for him too.

When my first book came out I was delighted I had achieved this massive life goal of mine at the age of 35. Then this year I read one of the best books I’ve ever read ‘Lessons in Chemistry’ and the author Bonnie Garmus is in her 60s, and this is her debut and part of me thought maybe to write a truly amazing and insightful novel you actually need to wait a while to let life happen so you know how to write about it well. In recent years I definitely view my writing ‘career’ as a continuous work in progress and I’m not even sure what I want my goals to look like anymore – really just keeping words on a page, reaching readers somewhere feels like an achievement these days.

In my job as a careers adviser I come across a lot of young people putting immense pressure on themselves, often those in their 20s particularly hard on themselves, feeling like life is passing them by because they’re not where they thought they would be, or they’re not where they think they should be (or more often than not, after some unpicking, really they are worrying about other people judging them to not be where they think they should be).

I think we should all scrap the ‘timeline’ from our head and not get hung up on achieving our goals. I do think it can be energising and kind of exciting to have goals, but we shouldn’t be a slave to them, and we should leave room to let them change too because no one really wants to follow a linear path – often the detours make for a much more scenic adventure.