Idea Generators

Someone recently asked me how I center myself for writing. It's a good question. Actually I spend way too much time dinking around with Facebook and emails. So by the time I get around to working, I simply kick myself in the bum and tell myself to quit wasting time and get to work. Myself sounds a whole lot like my dad...;o) 
Seriously, I generally play a game or two of Beleaguered Castles or Solitaire to loosen up my brain and then I'm good to go. Actually sitting down and opening the program works wonders.

I get most of my ideas and inspiration when I'm lying in bed in the morning. I rarely get to do that, however, because I'm incredibly busy. So the stories have to unfold while I'm doing other mindless things. I also rumble through scenarios while hanging clothes, especially at night. (I have six kids and several volunteer jobs. Lots of mindless jobs in there.)
I read like a freak--almost anything I can get my hands on. I take a book or my Kindle everywhere. I even read while I walk. Mostly I don't bump into things unless it's dark and I'm reading with a flashlight while walking. If you're looking to generate ideas, you've got to read a great deal. Stuff the time you don't spend writing, with reading.
I try to keep current on information as much as I can. All kinds of scientific breakthroughs catch my fancy (Bucky balls, Aerogel, polymers, etc). The list is endless.

At any given time there's usually a traffic jam of ideas in my head. Scenes and ideas for new novels are all backed up at a light and waiting for me to bring them to the public. It's the editing that takes me the longest.

I come up with ideas several different ways:
*Sometimes I come up with a kickin' character first. People like Vari Faro or Larkin will bang at the inside of my head and beg me to let them out. Then I plunge that character into as much trouble as they can stand. Sometimes it's more than they can stand. At times they've revolted and made me change the story. 
I recently tried to kill off one of my characters at the end of the book and she came and kicked me and told me she wasn't dying. So I let her live.
*Sometimes it's a story that unfolds. I have one I haven't written yet about a brother and sister who live under London Bridge and pick through the mud for abandoned or lost goodies. That story nearly sprang full-fledged from my head. I'm pretty much waiting until I make enough so I can actually go to London to do research for this book. Sigh.....
*At times it's just an idea that begins like a little seed and takes over. My WATCHERS series grew from my latent rebel tendencies. It ended up being a five-book series, which I'm still polishing between writing three other books.
*I like to take two disparate ideas and crash them together and see what emerges alive. FIRETHORN was like that. I wanted a character that was wildly out-of-the-ordinary without being the same old vampire or werewolf. Kerry was born in all her woodiness. Then I stuck her in high school with all the regular witchy cheerleaders and geeks. I'm hoping it'll appeal to teens and tweens by the bus-load.
*I've gotten ideas from dreams. I have a picture book I haven't written yet, that was such a vivid and color-splashed dream, that it's indelibly ingrained in my mind. I will write that book when I can scrape up time to paint the pictures. It's going to be breath-taking. Someday.
*My first published book SMALL DECEPTIONS grew out of a wish for more books like Jane Austen's. I'd run out of hers and most of the good spin-offs and wanted something more. I'm always looking for a well-researched historical romance with some meat to it. SUMMERHOUSE was another book like that. It's a paranormal Regency romance.
*It also helps to do a loose outline. I plug things into that outline and keep fleshing it out. That helps me keep the book on track so it doesn't stray off into murky byways.
*Write something every day, whether it's on your W.I.P. or a limerick about lawn gnomes. Keep the generator primed and oiled.

My main goal is not to swipe from anybody. Ever. If it's already been done, why write it? Same with movies. Why all the re-dos when there are perfectly good brand new stories out there screaming to hit the big screen? It annoys me that publishers look for books that are current but they also want fresh. That's a knife-edged line. I write what I want to and hope.

My main trouble is in getting books sent to publishers. I never feel they're polished enough. I do have one in submission (PIVOT POINT is the title so far) and A TERRIBLE MAJESTY is nearly out of the polishing stage. FIRETHORN is going to Beta today (thank you Courtney).

That said, it's time to get back to editing. Cheers!

A Smackeral of Psyquake

Here's a smackeral of Psyquake (my W.I.P.) (excerpts of the Declaration of Independence will be in the credits) :

Cai woke up in a close little room, which smelled of stale sweat and fear.

Sec!

Dread blossomed in his chest like a poisonous flower; the bloom died and the poisonous seeds spread throughout his body. Sec had ways of making people talk. Cai could break the whole agenda wide open with just a few words. If he'd had his hands free, he'd have found something with which to take his life. He worked at his bonds, sawing at the plastic ties, only resulting in making deep bruises in his wrists and ankles.

"I wouldn't do that," a man said as he walked in. "Those restraints are painted with a nerve toxin. If that gets into your bloodstream, you'll talk first, then die."

That wasn't a cheerful thought. Cai needed it to be the other way around. But probably Sec had some way of getting information out of a person even after they died.

"You've made a bit of a mess for us, 3CAI-M-REC."

"What does REC mean?"

"Ah. So you do talk. It means Recycling."

Cai smiled exhaustedly.

"So. Before I take you there, you're going to clue us in on your plans for the future and the whereabouts of your little friends."

"No."

The man smiled benignly. "I think you will."

Cai smiled back and launched into speech. "When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature, and of Nature's God entitled them, a decent respect of the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold..."

"Stop. What is this rot you're saying?"

"These truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator..."

The interrogator was starting to get steamed, now. "What Creator? You weren't created. No clones here. Wrong dome."

"With certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and..."

"Enough! Where are you getting this rot? And why aren't you answering any of my questions?" He held a device to Cai's head and clicked a button on it. "That should do it."

"The pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,--That whenever..."

"It didn't work! What the...why doesn't your chip at least beep on here?" the Sec agent said under his breath. Then to Cai, "Shut your mouth, prisoner. I can see why you're going straight to Recycling! No more lies!"

"No lies. This information is from a document written for my country almost four hundred years ago."

"Well there you go. That country is gone. That rot you're spouting is dead."

"You sure say 'rot' a lot. The rot is in this system...and in your head, my friend."

"I'm not your friend."

"Clearly. I thought you wanted information. Well I'm giving you information. I'm telling you why we're doing what we're doing."

"I don't need to know why. You're doing it because you've gone insane and you people are homicidal maniacs bent on wrecking our beautiful system."

"Beautiful? No."

The man came up to Cai and stuck him in the arm with a syringe full of something greenish. The creep's eye glinted with amusement as he pushed the plunger to the hilt. "Now you'll talk."

"Sure! I'll talk a lot! You'll be so happy to hear me talk. I'm talking right now, you know. Do you like me talking? I could talk faster. I could even talk in another language. Here we go. Ich spreche mit Dir jetzt. Yo hablo contigo. Lookit that! Three languages! I'm talkin' like a freak! Hey, I could tell you my ABC's. Wanna hear?"

The Sec agent rolled his eyes. "Tell me, where's your base?"

"It blew up. Gone. Bye-bye. A, B, C, D, E..."

"No ABC's."

"I don't think I can talk without using ABC's. Can you? I mean there are grunts. Okay, grunts it is." And then he launched into a series of grunts and other guttural nonsense sounds.

"Where is your base?"

"You should go to Recycle yourself. You're hearing is bad."

The agent made a sour face. "Who is your leader?"

"Leader, leader, following the leader wherever he may go. Ta-rum. Ta-ree..."

"Quiet!" He pushed a call button and when a voice asked what he needed, he told the voice that the prisoner needed transport back to Re-think for a new co-chip."

"Oh GOODY," Cai chortled. "I've been DYING for a new co-chip!"

The voice in the intercom said, "Are you sure he needs a new chip? Sounds like he should go straight to Recycle."

"Tell me about it," the agent answered.

Cai launched into another part of the Declaration of Independence, and continued until the flitter got back to Re-think. He was on his third run-through when the agent opened the doors.

"In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms..."

"Quiet! Get out." He yanked Cai out and cuffed him viciously in the head.

Cai sent him a poisonous look and continued even louder as they went in the door. "Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury...oh hi, whats-your-name! Hi! You work here now?"

The receptionist smiled and shot the Sec agent from under the desk. Cai was still spouting words from the Declaration when the others poured from the room in which they'd been hiding.

Larkin ran up to Cai and caught him in a bear hug. "Oh Cai! You're safe!"

"A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act...wait...you look like Larkin. Hi Larkin...no. You're too ugly to be Larkin...where was I? Oh. Which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people..."

Larkin gave him a suspicious look and then said over her shoulder, "Someone find me an antidote to that truth serum Sec use. There's a drug cabinet in the room across the hall." She examined her husband thoroughly. Cai was suffering from a fresh wound on his head, as well as various other cuts and bruises.

"If you were really Larkin, you'd take these things off my wrists and ankles. They're poison-y. But since you can't be her...yeah. Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren...heh...funny word, brethren. Brethren. Sister-en. Mother-en. Father-en..."

If you're at all intrigued or confused about what's going on, read this book when I finally get it out...or comment. I'm happy to explain.