The funny thing is, I can remember how I generated perhaps 20% of my poems, maybe 50% of my stories, and 90% of my articles.
The articles are easy. When I was a columnist for NOVA magazine, I’d get a list of the themes of the month way ahead of time, and then I’d have a two week lead time each month to offer up a new article.
Often, the theme would be something as vague as ‘light’, ‘foundations’, or ‘comfort’. As long I was 1000 words long, vaguely amusing, vaguely new age, and vaguely speaking to the theme, I could write what I liked. (As long as I didn’t get all meta and writing about writing.)
Sometimes, my initial thought was what went with. I’d been hot air ballooning the month before ‘light’ so I could write about the dawn light coming through the clouds.
Foundations though….my mum’s foundation garments of huge bra, Bonds Cottontail undies, and panti-girdle were not going to do the trick.
Sometimes it took some desperate intention setting and a trip to St Andrew’s bush market. “Between now, 8am, and when I get home, I will see something that inspires today’s article.”
I had to do some desperate intention setting that today I would generate an idea for the 5th module of Season of the Wolf: the Hulder and the search for extraterrestrial flora.
I haven’t done all the reading. I missed last week’s discussion of the reading. I’m currently in Queensland visiting my daughter and three grandkids. I haven’t turned my mind to the topic at hand.
I did take a half hour walk today, which usually lets my mind wander. It obligingly did so. A few days before, I saw a notification that Australian nature writer Inga Simpson was giving a writing workshop. I can’t attend, but thought of her brought her novels NEST, and WHERE THE TREES WERE. The latter got me thinking about arborglyphs – symbols carved into indigenous Australian trees. Most have been cut down and destroyed during land grabs by white fellas. Those preserved in museums have mysteriously gone missing in collections (let’s not admit that this land remains unceded).
Arborglyphs x Scandinavian huldra = today’s poem about immigration, hybridisation, integration, and in the background is land rights.
I can’t post any of it here, due to me wanting to sell first publication rights, but I thought you’d like to know about the cross-pollination that happens in my brain.
Oh go on then, here’s a Scribbly snippet.
Blog of A Witch 