About a year ago, I wrote a short piece about grief. The most common feedback I received stated that it felt intensely dark, cutting, and raw. After that, the general reaction was, ‘How do you write like that? Where do you get your ideas? Was that from personal experience?’
As a writer, I can tell you that very little of what happens in my life makes it on to a page. You can certainly find pieces of me. Those who know me will recognize my sarcasm, my dry wit, my typical introspective self. Beyond that? I’m not nearly interesting enough to fill page after page of a novel. Let me walk you through where I get my actual inspiration…
I sit on ‘my’ couch at
Starbucks the coffee house for hours and make up stories about the customers. I like to stalk them people watch. I listen to their conversations, study their mannerisms… yeah, I’m basically a creeper. Yet it lets me see. I think in scenes and in pictures and at least for a few hours, it’s like I get to have socially acceptable multiple personalities.
So what’s the take away? If you happen to see a 20-something brunette hanging out on the couch with a Venti coffee, a Macbook Pro, and a notebook? Run. Enough said.