As a writer of fiction, my approach to writing invention is linked to what I like to refer to as the two kinds of luck. The first kind is the sort that most people think of as “luck”, such as when you happen upon a five-dollar bill lying upon an empty sidewalk, or when you go the shoe store planning to buy a new pair and happen upon an unexpected sale. There is not much you can do to affect this kind of luck. It just happens, unexpectedly, like a bolt out of the blue.
But there is another kind of luck that is of more use to creative folks like writers, and this is the kind of luck represented by the little incidents or comments or random sights encountered during your everyday routine that make you pause for just a second, take notice and think to yourself, “Wait, what was that?” The trick to being able to take advantage of this kind of luck is that you must be ready for it. You need a prepared mind, one that almost reflexively recognizes a kernel of an idea when it passes by your eyes or ears, a kernel that maybe, just maybe, could grow into something larger, something that could be a full-grown story.
On vacation out in the western U.S not long ago, I was wandering around in a roadside tourist trap and happened upon a display of “jackalopes” for sale. They are essentially just mounted rabbit heads with small deer antlers attached. Some folks will insist they are real, I’m not here to argue, but the thought did cross my mind . . . what if they were real? Coincidentally (and this will seem like a random juxtaposition but bear with me), I had just been thinking about one of my medical patients who had become unexpectedly pregnant but wasn’t sure how she felt about having a baby, and then shortly thereafter had a miscarriage.
In that moment, I had a bit of luck, yes, the second kind. I merged my musings about real-live jackalopes into a story of a fictional young woman going through something like the experience of my real-life patient. The result was a short story called “Follow the Jackalope”, which uses a little magical realism to reveal some of the inner turmoil of a young woman living through an emotional crisis. The story is currently out for submission to several publications.
For longer works, I have become a fan of outlines, simply because they help me organize both the arc of the larger narrative and the arcs of the characters themselves. But in actual practice, I do a lot of written “doodling”, that is, I write craft elements like dialogue or description of settings as they come to me, letting the action of a particular scene flow in whatever direction seems logical while I’m writing. Of course, this approach does tend to require a lot of revisions and rearrangement, but I have found that it captures the emotion and mood in my head more quickly and completely, and I can always go back for cleanup later.
The late, great John Gardner wrote, “. . . the value of great fiction . . . is not just that is entertains us or distracts us from our troubles, not just that it broadens our knowledge of people and places, but also that it helps us to know what we believe, reinforces those qualities that are noblest in us, leads us to feel uneasy about our faults and limitations. (Gardner)” These are the qualities I search for in the midst of my doodling, in my bright moments of luck.
The luck of inspiration can come from anywhere at any time. An offhand comment overheard in the checkout line at the grocery store. A woman with an unusual hat noticed on a walk in the park. The sight of a hawk soaring against the backdrop of summer thunderheads in the distance. Any little thing can inspire, but you must cultivate the habit of watching and listening even as you go through the routine tasks of your day, and you must be able to register those moments as they fly by, to be able to conjure them again later when you sit down in the quiet of your writing space to create something new.
Readers ask me all the time, “What in the world made you think of that idea?” My response is usually just a shrug and an answer which may seem flippant but is nonetheless sincere: “Just lucky, I guess.”
Works Cited
Gardner, John. The Art of Fiction - Notes on Craft for Young Writers. New York: Vintage Books, 1991.