Spark of Creativity

This weekend my middle daughter asked me why I wanted to write. I gave her the usual answer of how much I love to be able to express myself, having something that has lived in my imagination come alive and take form on paper (or screen) and because it makes me smile. She nodded and we went about our Saturday. There was something about the question that stuck with me though. Something more about why I wanted to write.

What had been that initial spark? Was there one thing that jumpstarted my writing? I thought about it overnight and into Father’s Day. As we waited for our table for our Father’s Day dinner it hit me. I knew exactly the moment I wanted to be a writer. I was reading Go Ask Alice by Anonymous when I was eleven.

Yes eleven was probably a bit young for that particular book but I was blessed with a mother who didn’t really believe in restricting books and the arts from her children based upon age. I remember the day I got Go Ask Alice. I had gone to a garage sale with my grandmother. She was an avid glass and Avon bottle collector and we scoured the garage sales for finds. While she was inspecting a table of breakables (as we call them), I was immediately drawn to the huge table of books stacked upon one another. Now, if I could have had my way, we would have taken that whole table home. However, as it was my grandmother and being concerned with cost (can you imagine?) I was limited to one book.

I spent at least an hour reading the backs of the books and putting them in three piles, Keep, Nope, and Maybe. Then I narrowed through the Maybe and Keep piles until I was down to two books, Go Ask Alice and Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews. I asked for both of them and was told quickly it wasn’t going to happen. Finally I left with Go Ask Alice. I devoured that book in one sitting. I didn’t move until I finished the book.

That night I put pen to paper and started writing down ideas, thoughts, cares, concerns, characters, etc., anything and everything. I haven’t stopped yet. I never really thought of it as a career though, more of a love. It was my release and a time when my imagination could be allowed to run wild. I was one of those kids that adults would say they had their heads in the clouds. I daydreamed while I walked.

Go Ask Alice is still listed as being Anonymous though now is mostly believed to be by Beatrice Sparks. It is listed as a work of fiction though was presented much differently in the early 1970’s when it was published. It deals with a fifteen year old girl’s battle with addiction and the myriad of problems that comes with this battle.

It completely captured my attention and had me paying attention to people around me from that moment on. I started to “people watch” and speculate on what their stories were. I wondered about everyone from the grandmotherly lady behind us in the shopping line to the boy who sat behind me in class and pulled on my braid during silent reading. I started writing down those musings and giving them voices.

I still have that much battered copy of the book and am planning to re-read it this summer. I wonder what it will spark this time!

Last Nerve

Writer’s block, frustration, short attention span, impatience, and lack of sleep. Put those things together and you will have me at least once during the week. On those days I have to find other ways to release my creativity before it threatens to explode and throw creative juices all over the place. Appetizing huh?

Notice how I said one day of the week is normal for me to be completely frozen creatively? Yeah well this week has been particularly rough. I have experienced those things at least four times already this week. I wasn’t feeling my stories-any of the five-and my music was all old and overplayed, well, in short everything was getting on my last nerve.

That poor last nerve, it has been severely tested over the years, but never as badly as this week. So in a last ditch effort to save it I turned to painting my house. Yes, yes, you heard me. I am painting my house. Now it is mid-June in Missouri-usually the weather is pretty and not too warm so painting should be fairly easy. OH NO! Mother Nature decided she needed to take a shot at my last nerve. She has sent scorching humidity-packed days followed by thundering loud rainstorms at night. So painting the outside was out.

AH-HA! I outsmarted the old broad, and decided to paint the inside instead. I have been up to my eye balls in turquoise, pink and purple paint, not to mention spackle compound, tape and paintbrushes. After much ooohhhing and aaahhhing over my daughters' choices for their rooms, I set to working. There is something very calming about painting-until you hit the trim work. My last nerve almost didn’t make it through the trim painting. I do have some very cute pictures of my five year old though who fashioned a WalMart plastic bag into a lovely paint romper, complete with smirk!

So in the middle of this painting I an idea smacked me. It hit me so hard that I had to get off of the ladder, which was killing my feet anyway, so now I have a battered last nerve and sore feet. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the envelope that my cell phone bill was in and jotted down my idea. So then what happened? I didn’t want to paint anymore, but now I have bedrooms torn apart and have to finish them. Painting is getting on my last nerve----