It starts with an idea

Have you ever wondered where your favourite book started? What was the original thought that prompted J.K Rowling to begin creating the world of Harry Potter? Where did Willy Wonka come from?

The genesis of such incredible feats of imagination always intrigues me. Now I don't profess to be Rowling or Dahl, I have been lucky enough to see a few of my works go to publication and more importantly, have people enjoy my work. For me, the idea for a book rarely comes when I am striving to think about an idea for a book. Sitting in front of a computer thinking, Right what's my next book going to be about, is never a very productive or fruitful exercise. For me, ideas come when I immerse myself and become receptive to all that goes on around me, where all forms of stimulus - TV, other books, the net, world news, people, nature, conversation - spark my imagination into action. Where information is stored in my brain in the form of an abstract melting pot of unrelated events, people and raw data. As time passes, as I continue to take in more of the world around me, a single event, person of raw piece of data will trigger a link to something already stored in my brain and the genesis of an idea begins to form.

Sounds confusing? Let me illustrate the above by telling you how the idea for my new project came along.

It's been a year or so since I finished my last project and I had decided to take a rest from writing. Plus a few dramatic personal issues got in the way of my muse. Funny but for me I can feel myself entering into a state where I need to begin writing and creating, it is like a physical pull that I can't resist and if I ignore it, it drives me insane. A few months ago I felt the push to begin to create, so my mind automatically became hypersensitive to all that was going on around me: wars, starvation, drought, terrorism. The world seemed an unhappy place. When I ventured out I noticed that a lot of my friends seemed to be unhappy, and others I spoke too were not happy. This pall of pessimism and unhappiness seemed to be penetrating to individuals and to the souls of individuals. At this stage this was merely an observation on my part but then I began to notice the amount of ads on mental illness, anxiety, depression. I began to notice the amount of people spruiking knowledge on how to be happy. I sat at cafes where well dressed people digested gourmet meals and the words of Eckhart Tolle. I listened to talk back radio where people swore by "The Secret". Everywhere I looked there seemed to be people searching for happiness and meaning and others that claimed to have found it.

It got me to thinking, why are so many people unhappy these days? Why are so many people, many of them young searching for answers? Has the mid-life crisis shifted forward 20 years? Is the spiritual and religious world not enough to sustain the lost souls of the modern world? How much has modern society got to do with this epidemic of the lost and sad? Many of the people I spoke to were well off, in loving relationships and yet they still felt they were missing something.

And then I saw the old man sitting on a park bench seemingly smiling at nothing. Was he a senile old bugger? Or did he know something that I didn't, that most of us younger than he do not? Has anyone ever bothered to ask him?

And the idea for my next book began to take shape. We look for knowledge on how to be happy from texts, tv, radio, newspapers and yet for the most part we ignore the wisdom of those who would be in the best position to provide insight; those that have actually lived a life and can still smile. Maybe we are all looking for happiness in the wrong place.

So I have the idea. Synapses in my brain are firing into life. Characters are beginning to form in my head of their own volition; the characters are wispy and ethereal and I try to stem the tide telling myself that there is still work to do on the concept before I can even think about the landscape and characters of the book.

I have an idea, but I need to be clear on what this story will be about, or risk beginning the writing process and stopping half way because the idea was jumbled from the outset.

I grab my coat, walk down to the beach and go for a walk, all the while thinking to myself. Here we go again. The writing process is about to begin and it's a long and arduous journey. Are you up for it? I ask myself. I know the answer. I have no choice. If I was to ignore this idea it would chatter at me inside my brain demanding to be formed. Yep, I have no choice and I am glad for that.

So now the hard work begins, I hope you follow my journey and I welcome your company and your comments and maybe even your friendship.

regards,
Joe.

Next: The characters begin to form in my mind