For as long as I can remember, I’ve had story ideas. They’ve been running around in my head demanding to be told since I was in grade school. I used to go to bed with a pad of paper by my side, so I could jot down an idea that came to me in the middle of the night. Now, I keep my cell phone close at hand for the same reason.
I can’t tell you where my ideas come from, but they usually pop into my head unsolicited. I’m a people watcher. Sometimes the smallest vicarious experience will trigger an idea. Often the idea develops like the free fall of a chain of dominoes lined up on the kitchen table. On other occasions, an idea sits and percolates on the back burner for months until I suddenly find the key that unlocks the door to the hidden story inside. Many of my ideas are forgotten because fresh ideas wash them away. Persistent ideas, however, are turned into complex scenarios filled with living, breathing characters, poetic expressions of emotional content, plays that portray the people I watch or even song lyrics that carry my words on the notes of a melody.
Does a constant barrage of ideas mean that I’m hard wired to tell stories? I don’t know, but I can’t imagine waking up one morning fresh out of ideas. I think I’d be tempted to check my pulse if that were the case.
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