Where Do You Get Creative Inspiration?

At every book signing, one of the questions I can always count on being asked is: "Where do you get the idea for your books?".

My books, much to my publisher's chagrin, do not follow the current popular trends. If they did, I would no doubt be a more successful author. Instead, I follow my heart. My characters all have a basis in reality. Some are even modeled after friends (names have been changed to protect the innocent, she says with a smile and a wink).

I also find inspiration for characters and situations in the news. The short story that recently ran on my website was about a man who worked on oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Currently, I am writing a story about a soldier on leave in Paris.

Inspiration can come from anywhere, if you let it. Anything from a song to a movie to the weather can be the spark for a story. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein during a cold and dreary summer in Switzerland. Had the weather been better, would we have had one of the greatest monster in literature?

Imagination is also a contributor to creative inspiration. Without imagination, Jules Verne would not have pioneered the science fiction genre, and without science fiction would man have dreamed of going into space or exploring the oceans?

Over the years, there has been a mellowing toward certain characters as well. Anne Rice took the feared vampire and turned him into a tragic romantic figure. Stephanie Meyers took it a step further and made her character Edward Cullen a sex symbol.

So, my fellow writers, think for a moment. Where do you get the inspiration for your books? Share your thoughts here; inquiring minds want to know.

Happy New Year 2012

As the holiday bells ring out the old year, and sweethearts kiss, and cold hands touch and warm each other against the year ahead, may I wish you not the biggest and best of life but the small pleasures that make living worthwhile.

Sometime during the New Year, to keep your heart in practice, may you do someone a secret good deed and not get caught at it. May you find a little island of time to read that book and write that letter, and to visit that friend.

May your next do-it-yourself project not look like you did it yourself. May the poor relatives you helped support remember you when they win the lottery. May your best card tricks win admiring gasps and your worst puns win admiring groans. May all those who told you so, refrain from saying “I told you so.”

May all the predictions you’ve made for your future come true. May just half of those optimistic predictions that your high school yearbook made for you come true. In a time of sink or swim, may you find you can walk to shore before you call the lifeguard. May you keep at least one ideal that you can pass along to your kids.

For a change, some rainy day when you’re late, may the train be waiting for you. May you accidentally overhear someone saying something nice about you. If you run into an old school friend, may you both remember each other’s names. If you are on a diet, may someone say “You’ve lost some weight” without knowing you’re on a diet.

May that long and lonely night be brightened by a telephone call. When you trip and fall, may there be no one watching to laugh at you or feel sorry for you. Sometime soon may you be waved at by a friend, smiled at by a stranger, wagged at by a puppy, run to by a child, and counted on by someone you love.

More than this, no one can wish you.

Happy New Year!

Twas Assembly Before Christmas

 

Dedicated to parents (and all other adults)

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
In hopes we could manage “Some Assembly Required.”

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
While Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
A kitchen, two bikes, Barbie’s town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat…
Let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
If we can’t get it right, it goes in the basement!

When what to my worrying eyes should appear,
But 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
With each part numbered and every slot named,
So if we failed, only we could be blamed.

More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
All over the carpet they were scattered about.
“Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!

Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand.”
“Honey,” said hubby, “you just glued my hand.”
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
That all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact

To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
With “assembly required” till morning’s first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
Till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.

The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
Before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
We fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.

But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
“This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we’ll cheer, let the holiday ring,
And not have to run to the store for a thing!

We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
For the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!”
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose I gratefully went,
Though I suppose there’s something to say for those self-deluded;

I’d forgotten that batteries are never included!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Resolute Resolutions

With only a few weeks left in the year, some people (and you know who you are) are still striving to complete the list of resolutions that were made back in January.

In my wild and crazy youth, my resolutions were lofty goals – volunteer in causes that would change the world, contribute to worthwhile charities, etc. Hey, what can I say, I grew up in the generation that lived to protest anything and everything. As I grew older, the resolutions became more personal – work toward a promotion, find the man of my dreams, go back to school, write an epic novel. Still lofty, but definitely more realistic.

Looking back on all those promises to myself that I meant to keep, I find that a surprising number of them were completed. Not always in the same year that I made them, but kept still the same.
Perhaps that is how it should be. Goals and dreams cannot always be fulfilled with the confines of a year. Twelve months is far too short a time for the important things in life. It is the perfect time, however, for the small goals – saving for and then taking a grand vacation, buying that something special you’ve wanted for years. When scaled down, resolutions can actually be kept and then proudly checked off the list at the end of the year.

As for me, I still have one more item on my 2011 list of resolutions, but I am not worried. I still have time to accomplish it, and then I can look forward to sitting back on New Year’s morning with one last glass of champagne in hand and writing down my resolutions for the coming year.

How about you? How many things are still on you 2011 list?

Star Light, Star Bright

Now that the days are growing shorter, I find myself leaving for work in the dark and returning home in the dark. There is a bright side (excuse the pun) to the shorter days, however. It gives me a chance to cast my eyes upward and gaze at the stars.

I am lucky enough to be far enough in the suburbs that I can actually see the stars from my garden without the interference of streetlights. Not an astronomer in any sense of the word, I am still able to pick out a few of the major constellations - enough of the to make my junior high school science teachers proud.

Seeing the multitude of twinkling lights overhead never fails to fill me with awe. How beautiful they are! I look at them and wonder how many more worlds like our own or out there. Will we ever get to see those worlds? Are beings on those worlds looking up at the sky right now and thinking the exact same thing?

And what better place to sit and hold hands with the one you love than under a brilliant canopy of stars! It is the perfect time to reminisce and to dream.

Fellow stargazers and dreamers, share your favorite place to look at the stars with us.

As we prepare for Hurricane Irene’s arrival in New Jersey, I find myself delving into the Oreo cookies to keep my stress level at a minimum.

According to Science Daily, it is common to reach for comfort foods – chocolate, salty, or greasy food – during times of stress. They cited a lot of highly technical explanations for this, but it came down a chemical in fatty foods that reduces the amount of adrenaline in your system and calms you down.

Now, that sounds all scientific and factual, and I’m sure a lot of research went into it, but I really don’t care. I just know that when I bite into the crisp chocolate cookie and taste the creamy vanilla filling swirl around my tongue, all is right with the world.

What’s your favorite comfort food to help you deal with stress?

Taps - A Love Story

PART ONE

Ahh, Paris. The City of Lights. The City of Love. Who would not love to be in Paris in the spring?

Me, that's who.

Not a person for sightseeing, Brooke dragged herself out of bed. She hated being stuck somewhere over a weekend. She preferred to fly in, get her work done, and then fly home again, all within one week. Her time was too valuable to spend it doing nothing.

After lingering as long as she could over breakfast in the hotel dining room, she returned to her room to check her emails. Nothing was pressing. Shutting down the computer, she stood in front of the window and tried to decide what she would do for the rest of the day. Whatever it was, it had to be away from the hotel. It was awkward to be around when housekeeping came to clean the room so she wanted to be out before they came.

The lobby seemed a good place to read the newspaper. That would kill at least an hour. Brooke had just settled herself into the deep, plush chair when a crowd of people suddenly descended upon her quiet corner. They had come to see the paintings hanging in the lobby as part of an exhibit. The crowd moved from canvas to canvas while the artist described each work in detail.

Annoyed by the intrusion, she picked herself up and walked outside. Even though it was still rather early, the sidewalks were already crowded with tourists heading off to see the sights. She sighed. There had to be somewhere she could go to have some time alone to read her newspaper and contemplate what to do for the rest of the day.

With no destination in mind, Brooke began walking. She paused now and again at a shop window, but nothing held her interest for long enough to go inside. Before long, she found herself in one of the many parks in the city. Although it was crowded, this seemed a perfect place to spend some quiet time.

Walking along the manicured path, she saw families and couples on the benches and the expanse of fresh-mowed grass. Everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company. No one was paying attention to her. Why should they? She was just a lone woman in a foreign country.

Sighing, she plopped herself down on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. Paris was a city filled with so many things to do and to see, none of which appealed to her. Why did this business trip have to be so long? How was she ever going to get through the next two days?

"Pardon, mademoiselle," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts a moment later.

Using her hand to shade her eyes from the sun, Brooke looked up and saw the man belonging to the voice. He was tall, with the trim but muscular body of someone who worked out regularly. What impressed her most, though, was his incredibly perfect posture. She had never seen anyone stand so straight and tall.

"Yes?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

A smile softened his square jaw. "You're an American. From the Midwest, if I had to guess."

Brooke arched a brow. Although she was originally from Kansas, she had lived in the D.C. area for the last fifteen years. Hardly anyone made mention of her accent anymore. This man was either a master of linguistics or he was from the same part of the country where she was born.

As if reading her mind, he went on, "I'm from Oklahoma myself, and I can always tell a neighbor when I hear one."

He then gestured to the ground next to her and asked if he could join her. It was hard not to like his manners and easy charm so Brooke gave a noncommittal shrug. She welcomed the company but did not want to give the wrong impression by appearing overly eager.

"I'm Christian Anders," he said as he sat down a respectable distance from her. "But everyone just calls me Chris."

Without the sun glaring in her eyes, she could now see his face better. He had very angular features, as if chiseled from stone, and a nose that had seen several breaks over the years. His light brown hair was short, almost a crewcut, and was touched with grey at the temples. In sharp contrast to all that cragginess, he had warm hazel eyes that twinkled with mirth, as if he had a great joke he could not wait to share, and a ready smile.

"Brooke Stewart," she replied.

He took her hand and shook it warmly. As he did, he let his eyes flicked over her and Chris very much liked what he saw. It was clear that Brooke had a brain behind her intense green eyes. As for the rest of her, well, she was softly rounded in all the right places. It was those lush curves that caught his attention the moment she came into the park.

By the time they talked about Paris and the unseasonably warm weather for so early in the year, they began to feel more at ease with each other. The conversation quickly moved on to topics that were more personal. Brooke told him about her job at a major international bank, about the work that had brought her here, and how she would be in Paris for another week.

His eyes lit up. "It's a stroke of fate that we ran into each other today. I'm on leave until Friday and I was wondering what I was going to do in Paris all by myself."

She arched an eyebrow. "On leave? You're in the military?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm in the Marine Corps," he replied proudly. Chris saw the look of doubt as her eyes moved over his civilian attire and added, "There are times and places when the military does not want not advertise the presence of servicemen on leave."

Her mind flashed to the recent news report about five sailors viciously attacked in a South American bar. She never would have guessed Paris to be a problem city for Americans, but she guessed that the military knew how best to guard its servicemen.

Brooke's look of doubt softened into a smile. So he was a Marine. Well that certainly explained his posture and self-confidence, not to mention his well-toned physique. She was surprised that she had not guessed it right away.

As he continued to speak, she learned that Chris was a Captain and currently stationed in Baghdad. This was his first leave in fourteen months, having just completed his second tour of duty in Iraq. It was amazing to hear him speak so matter-of-factly about these places. Dangerous places that figured so prominently in the nightly news.

They continued to talk and to laugh about all the things they had in common. Before either of them noticed, the afternoon sunlight started to fade with the approaching sunset and lights began to wink on around the city. When the Eiffel Tower lit up, Brooke sighed dreamily. She had seen it many times before but the sight of the twinkling lights soaring to meet the stars never failed to send shivers up her spine.

Watching her face in the last rays of sunlight, Chris felt a stirring in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was the sound of his heart beating. Beating as it had not beat for a very long time. Yearning for a companionship he had not shared in a very long time. It took all of his self-control not to sweep her into his arms and to kiss her until they were both drunk with passion.

He would kiss her, though, that was sure. But not now. Not until he was certain she would welcome it. No matter how much he wanted her, he would not force himself on her the way he would have done in his youth. He had learned the hard way of the price there was to pay for such impulses.

Pushing thoughts of his past aside, he concentrated on the present and the woman next to him. He wanted to spend more time with her, as much time as he thought necessary while waiting for the right time to steal that kiss. Clearing his throat, he asked if she would like to join him for dinner.

It did not take but an instant for her to consider the invitation. Having dinner with this charming man was far preferable to her original plan for room service in front of the television. Smiling her best smile, she nodded and said, "I'd like that a lot."

Pleased with the response, even though he already knew she would say yes, he got to his feet and held out his hand to help her rise. Brooke felt her face pink. She was hard pressed to recall such gentlemanly manners from anyone she had dated. Ever. Fighting the urge to giggle, she slipped her hand into his.

The maneuver of standing up brought their bodies close, almost touching. For a split second, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Looking up, she saw the look behind his level gaze. It was a look that said he hoped they could be more than just friends. She tensed.

Vacation romances were never meant to last and only ended in hurt, and becoming romantically involved with someone while on a business trip was even worse. At times like this, when she felt the situation heading in a direction she did not want it to go, she would pull away, make an excuse to break their dinner date, and push the incident and the person out of her mind.

This time was different. This time, she did not pull away. She had no idea why, but she found herself eager to pursue a relationship with this man and see where it led. This time, she relaxed and savored the moment of their closeness.

His heart sank when he felt her tense. Once again he had been too forward, too eager to get to know a woman. Would he never learn his lesson? Just as an apology started to form on the tip of his tongue, he saw the change in her expression and demeanor. His heart soared. Fate brought him to this park so he could meet this woman. A woman he was looking forward to getting to know much better over the next week.

(copyright 2011 Judith McGuinness)