One of the biggest problems that many writers struggle with is finding inspiration for their stories.  We’ve all sat, with growing anxiety, staring at the empty white screen on our computers or (if you’re old school like me) the pristine but empty white pages of your notebooks.  Where does inspiration come from?

Throughout my writing journey I’ve looked for creative ways to find inspiration, to tease out the life stories that make for compelling reading.  There are many different ways to do this.  Some people rely on daily prompts – there are lots of websites or books that offer a different ‘prompt’ word or idea which a writer can use to craft a story.  Other people will write a fictional story based on a real-life event (kind of like Law and Order was “ripped from the headlines”).

One technique I’ve found helpful is also one of the hardest to do.  Find some time to just sit in a busy place and watch the lives that go by.  Listen, if you can, to people talk to each other and try to figure out their relationship with each other.  How are they feeling?  How does the event you’re observing fit into their journey?  These are great ways to come up with ideas and the scenes that will help you tell your character’s story.

I love to do this kind of thing when I travel alone.  It’s the perfect occasion to sit with a notebook and pen and just observe.  Make lots of notes and include any descriptors or flourishes you want – this can literally be the very beginning of a story and doesn’t have to stay true to life at all.  You are looking for inspiration, not trying to be a stickler for biography or historical facts!  If you’re picking up on a legitimate emotion or conflict, write down all the indicators that tell you the story of the emotion or conflict: body language, muscle tension, choice of words, everything.  These are the things that will make your characters come to life with authenticity.

Here’s a draft of a short story I wrote during one of these trips alone where I had the opportunity to really see the lives around me.  If I could show you my notebook, you’d see that it started out as point form observations and turned into quotes and then the paragraphs just started flowing.  I’m calling it a “draft” because I never really finished it or fleshed it out into anything more than a fragment of time on a train.  Although really, that in itself might be enough – telling the story of lives intertwining for just a moment?

 

Train 44

“Would you mind switching seats with me? I don’t like to face backwards” says the elderly woman to one of the two other ladies sharing a four – seater directly in front of me on Train 44. The younger woman (a daughter?) jumps up obligingly and quickly re-settles her traveling companion in the row that faces forward in the direction we are headed. They laugh amicably when the steward explains the emergency procedures for which they are responsible, sitting as they are in the emergency exit row.

“Oh I know all about this! Get the little hammer, smash the glass and chuck everyone out the window!” The ladies twitter amongst themselves and the steward awards them the green sticker signifying they have been appropriately briefed on how to save all of our lives. I quickly come to think of them as the sisterhood from that book The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants; these ladies might be returning from a girls getaway that has formed part of a yearly tradition or this might be their first adventure. Whichever; they are clearly at ease together.

The train picks up speed as an older British couple across the aisle each tap away on their individual iPads. They’ve told the train steward that they are traveling across the country visiting many of the major cities, and the steward offers travel tips and a few points of interest at their upcoming stop. I imagine the fun they have had planning this trip, maybe their first since retiring; searching online for sights to see and local culture to experience. A travel book pokes out of the backpack at the gentleman’s feet and his wife queries him about the next leg of their journey.

“Will we fly from Halifax to Montreal? Could we catch the train down to New York City?” She cannot remember the final details they settled on after weeks of planning. Nonetheless they are relaxed; perhaps they have made countless such train trips in the course of their marriage, bringing home the photos and memories which make up the tapestry of a life woven together.

(“You have to lie and pass yourself off as a professional Christmas tree decorator!” chortles the youngest woman of the Sisterhood, digging into an egg salad sandwich just purchased from the obliging steward.)

“Is there WiFi on this train?” asks a young man as he settles in next to another young man in the seats directly behind me. “Yeah, I think so” responds the second, which is met by a relieved grunt of thanks from the first. College-aged, headphones already on, they won’t be the most chatty of companions – a hypothesis that is gratified when I turn moments later to see that one of them has resettled himself elsewhere on the half-empty train.

(“There I went, flat on my face down into the bull’s pen!” recounts the elderly sisterhood lady, prompting an incomprehensible exchange about cows with giant nose rings.)

Elsewhere on the train the din of friendly chatter filters back to me as cornfields, trees and lakes slip by outside the window. Sun shines in on my face as we slow to pass through small towns where cars have stopped behind the flashing lights of railway crossings, waiting patiently while we pass.

A father and son speak to each other in a foreign language (Polish?), apparently on a long journey to visit family.

A young woman rests her head, asleep, against a balled up sweater rolled into a makeshift pillow.

The Sisterhood ladies have lapsed into full flow gossip.

“She really is snippy. I’m not fond of that Brenda at all.” “Well what about Terry?” “I don’t know, he hasn’t been around lately.” “Maybe she killed him!”

I smile and settle in with my own book, grateful for the empty seat next to me affording me my own private bubble. A few hours later we approach the train station at our shared destination and I privately wish them well as we pack up our belongings and prepare to de-board Train 44.

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What do you think?  Could you find inspiration from the mundane moments of every day life?  What is your favourite way to get the creative juices flowing?  Tell me your ideas and techniques in the comments!

Happy Writing!

 

*This post is adapted from a piece I published at www.pagesandpaiges.wordpress.com (read the original here)