It was the pancakes.

That’s how I came up with the idea for my book, The Last Time I Was Me.

Pancakes, hot maple syrup, and two gray haired women reading books.

I was sitting with my kids at an old fashioned pancake restaurant in my hometown. It was just us and the two women, both who were sitting alone, books in hand. They looked to be about seventy and I started thinking about them.

What were their names? Why were they alone? Did they like eating pancakes by themselves? Were they married and happy, married and miserable, divorced? What had happened in the first seventy or so years in their lives? What hopes did they have? What grief had they endured? Did life turn out as they had planned?

And, most importantly, at least for my purposes: What secrets did they harbor? Did they haunt them, or did the women dive back into their scintillating secrets periodically and enjoy every moment, delighting in the memories of forbidden love or crazy antics?

Aha!

I then had a vision of pancakes, a pancake restaurant, and women who have – ta da – secrets. As I later drove down a tree lined street in Welches, Oregon, near Mt. Hood, and saw several charming white houses, one with a blue roof along a river, the plot unfolded for The Last Time I Was Me in full, brilliant Technicolor, including Jeanne Stewart’s naked run along that river, a bar fight, and anger management counseling that has her flying like a bird and painting her body.

Need ideas for your books or characters?

Look around. Listen. Be quiet, be in the spot you’re in, and just be.

Be. That’s all you need to do.

How did I get my idea for Julia’s Chocolates? I had an image… an instant, crystal clear image of a white, fluffy wedding dress being tossed into a dead looking tree on a dusty, deserted street. That dress fluffed up into the air, and back down, up and fluff, and down again. Finally it caught on a dried finger -hook of a branch. The question that launched that book: Why is she throwing her wedding dress into a beat up looking tree?

I had my Julia. Then I gave her quirky, scared, passionate friends and an Aunt Lydia who had a pink house, a rainbow – painted bridge on her front lawn, and five foot tall ceramic pigs that were named after men who had ticked her off.  I asked myself how I could get all those ladies together in an original way. So I invented Breast Power Psychic Night and Your Hormones and You: Taking Over, Taking Cover, Taking Charge Psychic Night. Getting To Know Your Vagina Psychic Night followed.

For my book, Such A Pretty Face, I knew already that I had a girl with a troubled mother. When I watched Storm Large’s brilliant play in Portland, she talked about her mother and their troubled relationship. In the midst of one of Storm’s rockin’ out songs, drums pounding, guitars banging,  I had an epiphany: My character’s mother has schizophrenia. Boom. In the midst of the hard rock, the funny lyrics, and the darkness of the theatre, I had my story line.

The idea for Isabelle, in Henry’s Sisters, was based on a mood. My father had just died of prostate cancer and I was grieving. I was in a terrible mood. I gave my terrible mood to my character, Isabelle. At the same time, a conversation came up with me and a few girlfriends in my church about promiscuity, and how one of my girlfriends had such a hard time putting her past behind her, forgiving herself, and moving on. So, Isabelle formed into a character with a lot of bottled up anger, grief, and loss with promiscuity in her background. The question that launched the story: Why was she promiscuous?

I wrote from there. I gave her two sisters and a brother. I am from a family of three sisters and a brother, so I had a familiar family formation. But Henry, unlike my brother, is specially – abled. I decided to write a story about the beautiful impact Henry had on his whole family , inspired by the brother of a friend who was also specially abled. That brother had recently died and listening to my friend tell me about the love and kindness her brother brought to so many people was just tear jerking. I was also touched by a photograph of a specially abled young man with his father in a poster for Goodwill. I stared at that photograph for so long, amazed at the joy and peace on that young man’s face. So I had my Henry.

For ideas for your books, look around. Listen. Be open. Talk to others. Listen more. Take drives and listen to music you usually don’t listen to. Go on day trips to the beach, hike, head downtown, go to shows, plays, the symphony.  Accept and embrace people’s differences, their walks with life, what hardships they’re going through, what triumphs they’ve had. Stroll along a river and daydream, drive to a town you’ve never been in before and where no one knows you. Be anonymous. It’s a safe place.     Notice people. Watch people, not in a stalky way, of course, but watch them. Watch movies, study your ancestral history for cool family members, call an older relative and ask about her life. Always read newspaper articles about elderly people for the wisdom and guidance they can offer. Paint, draw, create. And read. Book after book after book, read.

Wishing you a rush of ideas for stories that will make your readers laugh and cry…

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