Inspiration - From the "Writer's" Side of Life
By Candy Halliday
© 2005 Candy Halliday All Rights reserved
When RRAH asked me to write an article about where I got the inspiration for my books, I thought, Ah-ha! This is my one chance to dazzle readers with the brilliant ways I‘ve devised to help get the old creative juices flowing.
The rough draft you aren’t going to read, mentioned that I use aroma therapy to help arouse my creative muse (I thought that sounded cool and so today, don‘t you?) I talked about hours spent doing advanced Yoga exercises (I envy those who do) but really - if God intended for us to touch our toes - don’t you think He would have put them on our knees? I hinted that the Dahli Lama himself sent me a copy of secret chants from a Tibetan Monastery to help me gain focus and clarity in my writing (focus and clarity are always biggies.) I even boasted that because Colin Firth is absolutely begging me to sell him the movie rights to my new Warner Forever release DREAM GUY, he sent me a nude photo album of himself - just for inspiration, of course, (and no - I don’t intend to share.)
Of course, as I’m sure you’ve guessed - lies, lies, lies - all of it.
I’m embarrassed to admit, I don’t have a clue why I suddenly get a story idea. Or why as soon as I get the idea, the characters automatically start showing up to introduce themselves. In fact, this mental explosion we call “inspiration” could really creep you out, if you let it. And that’s why - instead of lying to you - I decided to take you on a little tour.
Welcome, Dear Readers, to the “writer” side of life.
Imagine this: You’re politely sitting on your sofa minding your own business, and BAM! A story idea hits you like a thunderbolt. The next thing you know, some hot dude (that your husband can’t see, thankfully) plops down on the sofa beside you. He leans over and whispers, “Hi, I’m Alex. I’m your airline pilot. I prefer brunettes to blondes, if that’s okay.” You smile and think, Not a problem at all, Alex. My last book had a blonde heroine. A brunette heroine would work much better for this book.
Or, imagine this: You’re tying to fix dinner, but to do so, you’ve had to leave the hero and the heroine in a rather (ahem) compromising position. Before you can sling your husband’s plate across the room like a Frisbee, your heroine marches out of your office partially nude (your husband can’t see her, either, or the poor guy would have choked on his pork chop.) The interruption ruined the moment, she whines. Now she’s not in the mood for a steamy love scene with the hero. You scream (mentally, of course) and glare at your unsuspecting husband. If fasting isn’t an option for him, you decide you’re definitely sending him on vacation until you meet your freaking deadline.
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