Objects and places have a way of influencing art. They can inspire the best in us.
Sometimes I drive into work and I see this burned out sort of house thing that is propped up on stilts, just off the West Side Highway. The stilts protrude from the water. I believe around 90th street.
It’s strange. But looking at this structure, I can see a story, characters. A recluse vampire, or a being who does not want to be seen by the public.
I don’t have to write the story down to feel it inside, as though it has taken place. That character is waiting there, hiding within, behind the doorway, peeking out now and again. He/she is waiting for me to flesh out their tale.
I can see it all, now to just get it on paper the way I witness it in my mind, so readers can see it the same way.
Not too easy, but it’s possible.
Though, isn’t it funny how just looking at something, or being somewhere specific can bring these feelings and visuals to you? They scream out to tell the story they invoke. The characters c…
How grateful are you to those who read your work? How do you show that gratefulness? Do you do a free give away? Shout their name on social media? Or do you help them to achieve what they are trying to reach for in life? I try to do some of those things, to connect with my readers/listeners by including them in conversation with blog posts and YouTube. But more and more, as I become the writer and paid author I am working to become, things will change up a bit. I'll still be engaging, but listeners will evolve into fans more than peers.
Perhaps updates and happenings for fans who read my novels and such. Or just things that are going on and my views. But peers can still hang and network, find new fans interested in their work and such. And of course I'll want to get the opinions of those around me. So some things won't change. But change is inevitable. The great success is still a bit off, unless some profound mirical happens and I'm signed somewhere within the …
I remember as a kid making snowballs. It didn't happen too often because I'd lived in an apartment and the snow would have to fall either on a weekend or a school break. But when it did, it was so much fun. I'd roll them and at first it was difficult. Nothing would form, or the ball would crumble before gaining any mass. Eventually it formed, and I rolled that snowball and rolled it and eventually it grew into the base of a wonderful snowman.
So here's something I was pondering. Will I find the time to write? I can't do it as much as I want now because life gets in the way, you're thinking too much about your job, where's the money going to come from for the car repair, food?! You sit down to write in between all this and you can push out a tiny bit in between YouTube bouts of research (yes, research, that's what I call it!) And you wonder how the heck am I going to ever get things done when I finally do this hopefully for a living? I think, even if I have the…