Category Archives: friends and family

Inspiration – Feeding Your Brain

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san_diego_zooLately I’ve been brewing a lot of thoughts. Last night I even plotted out an entirely new novel. For some people that’s no big deal, but I rarely commit enough to an idea to outline it. It takes a long period of mulling over an idea before I decide it’s tickled my interest enough to latch onto it. Writerly friends always talk about how many ideas they get that are pulling at them and urging to be written. That so ain’t me, babe.

In San Diego, I was thinking about Little Sis’ fiance. Soon-to-be Brother in Law is a journalist and a freelance travel writer. Sunday morning, they got up early to take my brother to the airport, hit the zoo for five hours and then meet up with us for lunch. What kind of crazy person wants to squeeze in time at the San Diego zoo on Sunday after going to a huge wedding the day before? To me, it just sounded exhausting, but Brother in Law was giddy about going to the zoo and seeing lions and tigers and bears.

I thought then about all the articles he has to write on a daily basis. If I had to come up with ideas on a daily basis, I’d implode. Even these little bloggy thingies are hard to come up with sometimes. But BIL loves to go out and experience things. You might think, yeah, who doesn’t? But Little Sis and BIL, both writers, are out every chance they get finding events, places to go, people to see. Maybe all these inputs help BIL formulate this neverending cycle of ideas.

It leads me to think about what kind of experiences I’ve been stirring into the daydream soup. Ever since my honeymoon, I haven’t been writing or revising in earnest (yes, confession time). Some of it was because of the whole euphoria of finding an agent and getting embroiled in the day job. But I’ve also been going out and doing things. There was the weekend in San Diego and the entire week visiting friends and family in Los Angeles.

Even back in St. Louis, we’re getting out more. After the farmer’s market in Amsterdam, I remarked to hubby that it was the sort of Saturday I’d like to have every week. Sure enough, when we got back home, hubby started taking us to the Soulard Market on Saturdays. We’ll walk hand in hand, buying fresh fruit and vegetables. Then we go home and I’ll make the best sangria and guacamole. And that, of course, leads to another couple hours of lounging and non-writing.

All of this stuff feeds my mind, so I guess I have a happy brain right now. So maybe it’s not so bad to not be writing so much for the moment.

Happy Mother's Day

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2994559_blogWhen I was in 3rd grade my mum told me that you can think up stories and write them down and if they’re good enough, then people will pay you for them. I wrote so much that summer that my fingers swelled and I developed a writer’s callous that has only just begun to fade.

Mum always wanted to be a writer and she gave that dream to me and Little Sis and my not-often-mentioned brother as well, who’s also a pretty decent storyteller. Our first stories were mostly fan fiction — retellings of Transformers and Voltron episodes and whatever shows tickled our fantasy.

When my Little Sis was struggling with writer’s block during her master’s thesis, my mom’s supportive words were, “Maybe you’re not creative enough.” My Sis loves that story, because Mum cuts to the quick. Aren’t you a writer? Isn’t that what writers do?

When she asked about how my writing quest was going and I told her I was still trying to query after three years, her response: “The hardest one is going to be the first one. Until people know your name.” You know, there is nothing untrue about that.

More lovely encouraging words from Mum to Little Sis: “I paid a lot of money for your degree, where’s my book?”

It’s always been matter-of-fact with Mum. This is what you do. Write your story and that is all you need to worry about.

One more story, the best one. On the day Mum was supposed to graduate with her teaching degree, she got onto a refugee boat and left her parents and native country behind to flee with her husband. She had plans to teach literature during the school year and write in the summer. Obviously, all those plans were gone the moment she left shore.

A woman in the boat saw that Mum was pregnant and told her that the child would be intelligent, being conceived in one country and born in another. That little bump inside her was me. You don’t know how many times I’ve heard this tale.

“Mom always knew you’d be smart,” she’d say.

I hope my mother decides to sit down and write again one day. What stories she must have to tell! In the meantime, thanks for the dreams, Mum. They’re pretty good ones.