[Listen]
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Woman’s Voice:
This is Behind the Cut with Christopher Gronlund. The companion show to Not About Lumberjacks.
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Christopher Gronlund:
Behind the Cut is an inside look at episodes of Not About Lumberjacks and often contains spoilers. If you’ve not listened to the latest episode, “Calling Out of Time,” and that’s a concern, go listen and check this out when you’re done.
And now: onward!
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“Calling Out of Time” started with a tweet.
On May 25th, author Blake Butler shared an almost creepy post on Twitter. It was a photo of an old rotary pay phone in a booth on a dark corner in a city. The caption accompanying the tweet: “There has never been a phone booth on this corner before tonight.”
If that’s not a story prompt, I don’t know what is.
Most replies to the tweet joked about the Bill and Ted movies, Dr. Who, and that it was probably the entrance to the Ministry of Magic from Harry Potter. But I couldn’t shake the image from my head…and what might happen if there suddenly appeared a phone booth where, previously, one didn’t exist.
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People seem fascinated by where writers get their ideas…as if writers have some strange connection to a magical space where ideas swirl, and all it takes is reaching in and grabbing one. Or, it seems, others believe it must be a difficult thing requiring great effort.
But really, it’s as simple as being open to ideas and asking ourself, “What if?”
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If I’ve learned nothing else at day jobs, it’s that people often shut themselves down before beginning. If an idea doesn’t spring fully formed from their heads, well—how can it be a good idea at all? I once knew somebody who said she didn’t like thinking because sometimes her thoughts were “stupid.” To brainstorm on a piece of paper would mean physical proof that sometimes things they deemed dumb came out of their head.
How sad is that? But while someone that extreme in their own self-denial might not be as common, I’ve been in enough “think outside the box” sessions in meetings to know many people think their ideas are not worth it.
* * *
Right now, I have 85 ideas for Not About Lumberjacks stories at the ready. Some of them are very rough ideas I’ll likely never write. Others overlap. Some seem to come out so ready that entire passages are written in those initial moments of thinking, “What if?”
People who know me sometimes lovingly tease me about my love of the “What if?” game…where I take even the most mundane situation and approach it from all sides, wondering what more it might become. But in being open to this process, I have an Evernote file full of short story ideas. I have novel ideas, ideas for articles, and even ideas for role playing games.
I’m not precious about ideas because they mean very little until the effort is made to make them something more.
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I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a writer who has not encountered the following situation:
“Hey, I have this great idea for a novel. You should write it, and I’ll give you some of the money when it sells.”
Ignoring the fact that most completed novels don’t sell, it says a lot about how some people feel about ideas. While the person I mentioned at an old job limits herself by shutting the door on her mind before anything can step through, others think something as basic as, “This phone booth appears on a corner and a guy sees it,” is worth millions.
And why do the work when you can be an idea-man, right?
I’m usually very kind when people approach me, but I’ve had it in me when I was younger to be blunt with those people. Sometimes I’d even toy with them; other times I’d explain the effort of writing a novel and why I’d deserve far more than the 10% offered when the book “becomes a bestseller.” (Because those kinds of people always believe their shit smells like flowers.)
Today, I just tell people I appreciate them thinking about me, but have plenty of ideas of my own.
* * *
And if I’m being honest, ideas do matter—things have to begin somewhere after all. And I’d be lying if I told you there’s no difference in the weight of some ideas to others. Some ideas really do seem to write themselves.
I‘m not one of those writers who wishes I wrote other things. I’m not prone to jealousy. But there have definitely been times I’ve thought, “Damn! I wish I’d have thought of that…”
In my file of 85 ideas, some of them are better concepts than others. Those are the ideas I often go to when I’m a little stuck and need to remember the feeling of finishing something. Other ideas might result in deeper stories once all the “What ifs?” have played out and starts and stops show me where to go.
“Calling Out of Time” was one of those ideas that seemed to write itself. A phone booth appears out of nowhere…why? “What if it was a prank? What if it was a trap? Or…what if it was magical and let the protagonist call his old phone number and speak to his younger self?”
There, it could have become humorous…an adult imploring his younger self not to make the same mistakes he did. Maybe a few more “What ifs,” and you figure out a way to make the actions of the kid affect the present version of himself.
It could have been a lesson about greed: the grown-up version calling the younger self and telling them to invest in certain stocks to endure wealth in adulthood.
There are so many “What ifs” one can play with if they are willing to let their thoughts go.
Sitting down to write “Calling Out of Time,” I knew Amir lost something when he was younger that shaped the direction of his life. Ideas came and went, and I settled on him trying to stop a household fire that killed his immediate family when he was twelve years old.
From there, all it took was sitting down and doing the work.
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[Quirky music fades in…]
Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks and Behind the Cut. Theme music for Behind the Cut is a tune called “Reaper” by Razen. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the music, the episodes, and voice talent.
In a month or so, it’s a story that begins: “The Quaking Bog Man was gone, and Crazy Mike was found dead behind the maintenance barn, covered in grass pink and rose pogonia blossoms.” Who doesn’t love a mystery set in a bog in northern Illinois?
Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!
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