Dec. 22, 2008

Finally, what I think to be a good idea has found a way to my mind. Exploring this idea is the fun part, mapping it out, trying different directions to get to the end point and understanding what route would make the end point the most satisfying. What route would have the biggest pay off in the end? I toy with this idea, I bend it, I manipulate it to be what I want it to be. The idea came on Thanksgiving. Driving back from my parents’ house around 7or 8ish, I see a bus on the overpass from below the freeway. Buses run on Thanksgiving? Who would be riding the bus on this day? That’s the visual that triggered my imagination. Something about it intrigued me. I’ve already started writing it, but I keep changing directions, trying to find a better route. I love the idea, I think about it a lot. I think how amazing it is and how amazing it could be. I think about how perfectly imperfect the characters are and how relatable and universal they are. Then I question whether they seem contrived. Then I question the plot, and thus the cycle ensues. I always start off with an idea I love, I get really excited and write about it, then I over-analyze everything and start to not like the idea, and then I have to re convince myself that it is a brilliant idea and that the characters are worth writing. What a process. I love writing, I love imagining, and sometimes I just like the feeling of running a ball-point pen across a piece of paper, the smoothness, the control, the possibilities….