There are story ideas everywhere.

 

Started a story yesterday, realized immediately that it wasn't good enough. Made me wonder how many stories I've started over the years. Hundreds, I'm pretty sure. Thousands? It's not that all of them didn't have potential, it's that I was either in the mode of finishing things or in the mode of not finishing things. 

When I came back to writing a decade ago I had one rule: finish the stories, don't change anything until you're done. 

So for eight years, that's what I did. Some of the stories worked out, some didn't. But most of them were finished.

The story I wrote yesterday made me think of how fertile my imagination is; I'll never not have stories to tell, if I so choose. But I'm waiting for the KILLER idea, and that means waiting a long time. I sat on the "Werewolves + Donner Party" idea for years. I knew it was a winner. But most of the other stories were more spontaneous. I don't know that the spontaneous stories were any worse than the long incubating ideas, but it always felt a little iffy, and most of them didn't get the immediate "That's a cool idea!" response that Led to the Slaughter got. 

But I've decided that I should start a new story every day; in fact, just waiting for inspiration for an hour or two every day, writing the beginning, and then seeing if it has any legs. The proof of concept will be the urge to keep writing. 

Today's idea, which I just now came up with.

Barbra Streisand barely mentions singing in the first chapters of her book. She wanted to be an actress. She spent her first few years in New York auditioning for serious plays, trying to the get into the Actor's Studio. At some point she's offered a job if she'll sing in it. The way she depicts it is, "Yeah, I can sing a little." So her best friends say to her, "Hey, we've known you the whole time you've been in New York and you've never once mentioned singing. Sing something for us."

She says "OK, but I'm going to turn my back on you because I'm embarrassed." She sings a song she's been working on, and when she turns around, her friends are crying. 

Nice story. 

So here's what really happened: She went to one last audition where she is humiliated, comments on her looks, and so on. She meets a well-dressed gentleman as she leaves the stage and he says, "Listen, I can get you parts if you can sing." 

"I can sing a little."

"Oh, I can help you with that," the gentleman says, whipping out a contract. She read the paper, signs with a flourish."

"Go ahead," he says. "Sing something."

She starts out hesitantly, but her voice gains power and confidence and she is...well, the diva we all know and love (or hate.)

I know, I know...not a new idea. Completely Faustian. And writing it would be hard; I'm not musical myself. 

But you see what I mean: there are story ideas everywhere. 

Hey, I'm not saying they're all good ideas...