A friend asked me to water her garden whilst she camps at a seaside park, wandering the shore, watching for dolphins and breathing in the salty, moisture-heavy air. We live in an arid zone where plants would turn brown and crisp quickly without a hose gushing into pots and trickling into the ground. It's a pleasure for me since I am currently garden-less. I love green. I adore trees. I am a nut about fruits and vegetables bursting forth.
As a bonus I got to eat a handful of those little tomato gems, which surely have been touched by the Flavor Fairy's wand. They do not seem to be from the same planet as supermarket tomatoes. There is a sci-fi story in there somewhere.
All of which leads me to writing. I was bummed to miss the SCBWI conference in LA this weekend but have come to realize I have an abundance of inspiration around me--from the mini-world of a garden to the enormous reach of the internet.
Lady Glamis has been posting a superb series on mapping your novel. I am not a outline whiz and fall straight to sleep if faced with making a list that involves Roman numerals. I like to write as if possessed by a story, to let the characters lead me on a merry dance, to submerge myself deep in the enchantment.
I must do a weird tangent thingie here and thrust in one of my favorite anecdotes from Neil Gaiman. He said in a blog post that he was traveling with his daughter after the death of his father and when the plane landed, she interrupted his writing to tell him it was time to get off. He said: 'But I want to find out what happens next.' If that isn't going deep, what is?