Inspiration – A friend’s home
An acquaintance that is developing into a nice friendship was the source of an invitation to a holiday open house at the unique residence he shares with his partner.
The house is a museum.
My friend sold and brokered art for 24 years. His love of portraiture shows. I lost count on the stairs alone. In addition to antique and more modern portraits and paintings, beautiful antique furniture from several eras fill this home. I could identify Empire, Art Nouveau, Queen Anne, and Rococo…I wish I knew more about antiques so I could have fully appreciated what I was seeing.
I listened to stories about the 77 year old house, stories of some of the pieces in the house, and stories of how some were acquired. His partner and I discussed preferences for decorative glass and different eras for furniture. I learned what a luster was and admired a full set of depression glass dinnerware (missing only the oil lamp). We talked about architecture, renovation versus remodeling, and probably a hundred other topics that evening.
I couldn’t help the concepts for historical or supernatural stories that could feature this armoire or the girl in that painting. Even the house would be a strong character with its stone facade and interesting corners. Much more than these, however, were stories centered around people who dealt in antiques for the love of it and were drawn to old things for reasons they didn’t understand. And just how far would a collector go to obtain the perfect set of pink lusters?
Where’s the most inspiring location you’ve been to?
Inspiration – Rusty Money
I count money as part of my day job. A few weeks ago I ran across a ten dollar bill that was stained with rust. The red and orange coloration ran up the bill in the creases and lay across the bottom, as if it had wicked up the color from rusty water.
Oh, how frustrating to not have a moment to jot a note. A story idea came, but was gone by the time I could write it down.
Surprisingly, it came back in full force as soon as I saw the ten again. Two characters and a location came to mind. Over the next few hours I kept paper close by as the plot resolved itself and small details began to fit in. A heist, a betrayal, a murder, and a hiding spot that remains undiscovered for some time…yup, quite a lot from a bill with a reddish stain on it, even knowing blood would stain the bill brown, not red.
I’m currently developing the concept into a novel-length work titled Blood Money.
What’s your craziest source of inspiration so far?
Inspiration – An Old Portrait
I’ve said before that inspiration can be found just about anywhere. This week I’ll share three such incidents that happened to me recently.
When I’m not writing (and that always seems to happen from mid-November to mid-January), I’m usually indulging in some other creative outlet such as designing houses or handwork. Last weekend I was on an art website looking for inspiration for a room when it happened.
I felt as if I was looking in a mirror.
The portrait was of a woman of similar age with the same facial structure, same shoulder set, same ears, same jaw, same furrow in her brow.
So of course my writer brain goes a bit nuts producing three or four scenarios for short stories and novel-length stories about a heroine who stumbled across a portrait that looked so much like her it was uncanny. Add to this a 400 year time span between the life of the heroine and the life of the portrait’s subject.
The plot pot started to boil.
That’s all it takes. Some off the cuff comment or a glimpse at an antique portrait can set your writer mind in action.
Where have you found inspiration lately?
Journaling Through
I joked (sort of) about hiding a journal on the gurney when I had surgery. Of course, I didn’t get to do that, but I did ask for it the first time I woke up. My husband patiently handed me a spiral notebook and a pen. I was reading those half-dozen pages last night.
They aren’t much.
In fact, I think I mostly journaled about what was going on in the moment, what the nurses said, how I felt about the unplanned overnight stay. I didn’t try much; I just put pen to paper and wrote whatever was on my mind.
What surprised me was the level of detail a barely coherent mind included. Was that really me, finally showing evidence of discipline or was it the drugs? My spouse tells me the details are mostly accurate. It is those details that give me the best information regarding my state of mind.
What would happen if we handed a journal to every troubled teen, every newly diagnosed cancer victim, every recently widowed adult? What if they wrote in a journal until they no longer felt a benefit (assuming they don’t enjoy the habit)? What would those journals reveal a month, six months, or year down the road?
I’m a tad more experienced than the average person who hasn’t written more than letters or a report since the last school term paper, so perhaps I see the potential through a rosy lens. But imagine what your thoughts and observations…and the things you noticed…might tell you about yourself?
No matter how many years I’m given to stand up for the practice, I’ll never have enough time to fully extol the benefits of regular journal writing, and not just for times of change or stress. Let me just say one more time that I can’t think of any better means of developing as a person than prayer and keeping a journal.
