PLANTING SEEDS
I've got a scene running through my head and no matter how frivalous it sounds right now, I'd better take notes. It's those glimmers of ideas, with a little time and right brain mentoring, that often become some of our best work.
Lisa Leonard-Cook says in her outstanding book "The Mind of Your Story," "these ideas stuck in my head are fictional seeds." She tells readers she's not ready to begin to write, not with that one seed, because it takes her at least three unrelated seeds collected before she can begin.
Back to my seed. I see a woman in an older model car slowly pulling over to the side of a highway as the car dies. She sits there for only a moment before pulling her heavy coat from the crowded backseat and stepping out into the cold, whipping wind of a gray Wyoming afternoon. It's then I see with my muse's eye that she is pregnant--very pregnant.
Who is she? What's she doing on this road alone, in her condition, in late October or early November, a time when she could have run into an early snow storm? My mind says she doesn't live anywhere near here. Where's she from? What is she doing here? Yes, that's it--she's running. From what? Or whom? A violent boyfriend? An abusive husband?
If we look at this scene, I realize I have more than one seed planted already. But I'm not quite ready to begin writing this story. Where is it going? Who will rescue her? Will she be found by her pururer? What is the plot about? Where will the story take the reader? What's the message?
The seeds have been planted but they have yet to root or leaf out. I'll just let them strenghten and grow right where they are--until the story won't let me wait to tell it.
Lisa Leonard-Cook says in her outstanding book "The Mind of Your Story," "these ideas stuck in my head are fictional seeds." She tells readers she's not ready to begin to write, not with that one seed, because it takes her at least three unrelated seeds collected before she can begin.
Back to my seed. I see a woman in an older model car slowly pulling over to the side of a highway as the car dies. She sits there for only a moment before pulling her heavy coat from the crowded backseat and stepping out into the cold, whipping wind of a gray Wyoming afternoon. It's then I see with my muse's eye that she is pregnant--very pregnant.
Who is she? What's she doing on this road alone, in her condition, in late October or early November, a time when she could have run into an early snow storm? My mind says she doesn't live anywhere near here. Where's she from? What is she doing here? Yes, that's it--she's running. From what? Or whom? A violent boyfriend? An abusive husband?
If we look at this scene, I realize I have more than one seed planted already. But I'm not quite ready to begin writing this story. Where is it going? Who will rescue her? Will she be found by her pururer? What is the plot about? Where will the story take the reader? What's the message?
The seeds have been planted but they have yet to root or leaf out. I'll just let them strenghten and grow right where they are--until the story won't let me wait to tell it.
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