Waiting In The Wings: Catching Ideas as They Fly By

And concrete tips once you have an idea so you know what to do with it.

Life is too busy to have time to have ideas, surely? Grab a cup of coffee and join me….

The trees have exploded in frothy flowers, but the hot afternoon wind is stealing the petals, spilling them everywhere. Sometimes, I take a break from edits—edits I’m doing in a patchy, fruitless way, waiting for a little more feedback to give me concrete direction.

Petals. Hot wind.

This is when it happens: an idea.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez says in Of Love and Other Demons, “Ideas do not belong to anyone. They fly around up there like angels.”

This means something to me, although I don’t believe:

1. in angels

2. that we can define what ideas are or aren’t

Regardless! Isn’t there’s something in the fluttering of wings, the brush against the cheek, that’s romantic about Garcia Marquez’s lines? Vivid, too, is the belief that an idea doesn’t belong to anyone (vivid, like this lily…)

Belonging

While ideas aren’t ours to own, my experience is that we want to hold them close. When a good idea comes to me, often it comes with fear: what if someone else has this idea, too?

Sitting in the garden, the hot wind, the petals, the idea is no longer flying around outside of me. Instead, it’s like a—

(Words that don’t describe it:

1. flame

2. beating wings

3. small creature

4. liquid)

The idea is inimitably itself, spinning with words that pertain to it: a novel, a murder, a main character who thinks they have all the answers, something inside a house that hasn’t been entered for a while…

I want to CLING TO IT.

But clutching the idea makes it smaller. Fear makes it less.

It needs room to breathe—I’ve learned through writing lots of books that I need to let go and see if it sticks around.

So I do.

What To Do With An Idea (once you’ve released your grip)

Everything, everything that anyone says or does gives the new idea oxygen and it becomes hard to do the afternoon school run, to sit beside the children’s sports, to focus while making supper.

Instead, I’m considering an opening scene, an arrangement of words that bring this thing to the page.

I’ve let go, yet the idea stays. This is my first clue that it might become more than a flutter of wings.

Then I meet someone who does a job that would be perfect for my main character. I take their number so I can set up an interview.

These are concrete steps. There are more below.

Time

Writing a novel takes a long time. I’m still editing the last one—now I’m on draft nine, the final draft before I send it to my agent. She’s a wonderful woman, smart, connected, but I’ve always been an author for children and young adults.

This book is different because:

1. it’s for adults

2. it’s a murder mystery

Over the last five years, this is the third book I’ve tried with a murder in it, populated with adult characters. The new, fluttery idea would be a novel in a similar space.

It’s the type of book I read when the lights are out and the children are sleeping.

Because the future is uncertain—I may not find a publisher for my current book, let alone the next one—as I give the new idea time (and the choice to leave), I read books by other writers who have successfully published crime & suspense.

Rabbits

If you’ve read The Velveteen Rabbit, you’ll perhaps remember this quotation: "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, Not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real."

The Velveteen Rabbit longs to be real. I’ll come back to this.

Concrete Tips

1. Stay open to how the idea unfurls

2. Give it time to see if it sticks around

3. Listen to people who have expertise

4. Read

5. Play!

Bravery

The petals are becoming mulch because while I’ve been writing this essay, days have passed. The idea lingers and so, I’ve decided, when I finish this edit, I’ll turn my full attention to it.

This is what

Elizabeth Gilbert

says, “Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner.”

Like Garcia Marquez, she feels the energy an idea presents—for her it’s (almost) alive. The co-creation of person and idea make the story happen.

For me, it might be like that, too, but I have to start to write (without fear, without clinging to ownership, with curiosity…)

Making It Real (for a Long, Long Time)

So, I find someone I trust and I tell them—I have a new idea.

If I’m really brave, I’ll share a sentence or two.

Now I’ve spoken it out loud, it becomes real.

Then I pick a date to begin to write. It’s a promise, it’s playful, it’s low-commitment and yet it’s everything.

Could you do me a favour? Share this with someone who you share your ideas with…

Tell me, what do you do when you have an idea?

xoxox

Alice

If you’re new here, my name is Alice Kuipers and I’m a writer, mother and dog & cat-owner transplanted twenty years ago to the Canadian prairies from England. I’ve published fourteen books in 36 countries and my writing has been described as: “For storytellers and story lovers,” by Kirkus Reviews; ‘Gorgeous, heart-ripping, important,” by VOYA; and “Intense and wonderful” by Bif Naked. Join me for coffee breaks, book conversations, and to share my writing life together.

Xoxo

Read along with me (have you started yet?!):