Let’s say there was this guy walking barefoot through his house when a meteor crashes in his backyard.
There’s a glowing rock in the middle of the crater, and it’s warm to the touch when he picks it up. Why would he do that? People do dumb stuff all the time — why not pick up a glowing meteorite in your own yard?
But where did the meteor come from? Why did it transfer superpowers to the finder? Are dark forces at play or forces of light and justice?
And who is the sultry next-door neighbor who saw the whole thing?
See, that’s what I’m talking about when I say “have fun” — the above was a seven-minute jam where I started a sentence “Let’s say there was …” and, just for fun, I made stuff up as I went along, as stuff came to me. Just. For. Fun. No connections to anything else I’m writing, just a fun little exercise to get the juices flowing. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and write that story. Maybe I’ll find it in this journal in five years and something in the back of my mind will say, “I know what the meteor is!” Maybe that’s the last I ever think about it.
But I wrote something this morning. And that’s the point.
Why do people climb a mountain? Because it’s there. Why do writers write? It’s just what they do. Where do they get their ideas? Out of thin air when they sit down to write, relax and have fun with it.
