Creativity. Making something good and wonderful from something ordinary.
Sometimes writing is more about inspiration than it is anything else, and other times it is all about the perspiration.
Even when we are inspired and our work is flowing, there is a lot of work involved.
Research. The internet is an awesome resource and I highly recommend you do not rely solely on Wikipedia, The Fount of All Knowledge, fine repository of sometimes mythic information that it is.
Stitching the plot holes together. Finding them is the trick, because everything looks perfect to me, until Irene gets hold of it!
Meeting and greeting the characters who people your tales. I write descriptions and biographies of them as they appear in the first raw draft of the tale so that I know them and how they will react in a given situation.
The day 14 writing prompt for the short story a day in the month of May from StoryADay.org for today was (and I quote:)
“Simple task today (ha!): The Prompt Write a story that opens, “On the edge of the mountain, silhouetted against the setting sun, there is a small ramshackle cottage made of wood.” Tips This sounds, at first blush, as if it has to be set in a fantasy or fairy-tale world, but I bet you can […]”
SOOOOO this is what MY somewhat less than fertile mind came up with today:
On the edge of the mountain, silhouetted against the setting sun, there is a small ramshackle cottage made of wood. The wind blows through the cracks and crevices, and the glass that once graced the windows has long since fallen prey to the winter storms.
Once it was full of laughter, love and merriment. Children played in the now wild garden. Raccoons now raise their young beneath the floor boards, and owls nest in the rafters.
The cottage and the mountain are one; both have always been and only time will tear them down. Nature always takes back her own.
This is in keeping with my commitment to writing my shorts in 100 word bursts, even though I’m not that impressed with it. It’s an exercise, and just doing it is good for the writing muscles.
Am I any closer to being able to write a decent pitch for my forthcoming novels? I don’t know, but I’m having fun. One day I wrote my 100 words as a love poem, too frank and soul-baring to post here.
It’s cathartic in a way – 100 words that fall out of me for no one’s amusement but my own. Some are good enough to share, some are just mental crap. But it’s a good exercise, and it stirs the creative juices.