Inspiration

When C.S. Lewis was trying to describe how he got his inspiration for The Chronicles of Narnia, he wrote, "It all began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy woodland. This picture had been in my mind since I was about sixteen. Then one day, when I was about forty, I said to myself: 'Let's try to make a story about it.'" (You can read more of what he said here.) We all know what happened next, and some delightful stories were born.

Just like Mr. Lewis, I'm often not sure where my inspiration comes from. Sometimes it's another story, a song, a random Scripture verse, and yes, even pictures.

I didn't really know until I had finished writing the first draft of "The Book of Dreams' where it had come from, and even now I'm not completely sure. Maybe it was the book from the BBC Voyage of the Dawn Treader that had caught my fancy years ago or my fascination with Caspian's half-dwarf tutor. Maybe it was listening to an audio drama of "At the Back of the North Wind", reading "The Weight of Glory", or listening to Andrew Peterson music that filled me with a longing for heaven. Or maybe it was just my own random thought: "What if you were chosen to have an adventure?" 

This story has been one of the easiest for me to write. The words, especially the description, just seemed to flow into the keys of the computer. I felt almost like Handel frantically writing the Messiah. Although my siblings keep begging me to let "Letters for Victory" be published next, I've decided that it must be "The Book of Dreams". It's a story that I love and can't wait to share.

I will admit to you, that not all of my inspiration has been this glorified or extraordinary. Most of it comes from everyday life and interactions with my creative and amazing family. ; ) When I was describing Grandma Rowena, I pictured her as Grandma Nutt from the board game Candyland. ; ) Cool, right? (Cinnamon doesn't quite look like her peanut dog.)

I think some of my characters would protest if they knew their origins. So, dear Sir Larkin, Drewin and Ryla, Byron, Sienna, and everyone else please stop reading this post if you won't be able to handle it. ; ) I'm about to confess.

• Sir Larkin--your name was originally a girl's name I heard at the Homeschooled Authors' book table in 2014. Very sorry, but I thought with the medieval twist it would work. Will you forgive me?
• Drewin and Ryla--your names themselves are made up because I had run completely out of medieval names since I've overused the time period/genre. But I have an ever bigger confession to make. The name of your story (The Twin Arrows) is actual the name of a local casino. I didn't know where I had picked it up until I was idly reading the billboards on our way somewhere. I'm reclaiming it though. It's mine, and it's ours.
• Byron--yes, I know I haven't visited your story in a while. I'm stuck. But your name was an awesome inspiration. I've read it almost every day of my life, and it was such a part of me that I didn't know it was the brand name on the tag of my teddy bear. He is very noble and unique, though; so you shouldn't be ashamed to be named after him. (And it's really not as bad as the random Pony Express rider who was named after my pencil case...)
• Sienna--hello, again. I want another story for you, but we'll have to get to that sometime. I believe you are named after a local resort from yet another billboard. It's a beautiful name nonetheless, and I love it. ; )
• Fiddler--I love you so much that I couldn't find a name good enough for you (and Edward already got a story, so I can't use that again); so that 's the real reason you don't have one. There's no geeky or cool reason for the "secret" except lack of inspiration and fear of ruining your awesomeness. (I don't think Isolde minds.)
• Percy--you are so cool that I'm sorry you got that name. Only thing I could think of when you needed one. (At least you aren't stuck without one like "Mr. Strathmore's boy" or "the half-grown boy with the half-grown voice"...) And by the way, if you end up in a second story, you just got ten times cooler. I was reading the Arthurian tales the other day and crying over Sir Perceval's coming to Camelot. Your name is now short for Perceval. ; )
• Isolde--you're name is also from the Arthurian tales, but hopefully your story won't be as tragic as Tristan and Yseult's. It's beautiful nonetheless, and I'm really not ashamed of it all. (You're sister Ariel is from one of Jerusalem's alternate names and the name of the sprite from The Tempest. I heard somewhere that they were naming people during the 1860s from the Bible and classics, so... And Shallia was completely from my own head.)

So it ranges from everything from billboards to Shakespeare, C.S. Lewis to teddy bears, and everything else in between. Sometimes with stories like "The Book of Dreams", I feel as if I am writing something beautiful and amazing that will bless many people and bring them closer to God. Other times I feel as if I am writing a collection of random ideas that is just a cheesy remake of The Princess Bride. And then I remember that, as long as I am writing for God, He will make something out of it that I could never have imagined being possible. He will use my crazy stories to change a life, even if it is only my own. So I keep writing. ; )

I've recently started using Pinterest to help with inspiration. I have boards for "The Book of Dreams", "Letters for Victory", "Fiddler's Bargain", "Awake", and another story currently (and boringly) known as "Kiera". I try to keep my boards God-honoring and kosher, but please use the site in general with caution. (Same warning as I give for YouTube.) And please note that there might be spoilers. ; ) 

In the "Out"

The restaurant was crowded with a myriad of hungry people and at least six television sets blaring away. We were scheduled to meet some friends there to share dinner, and when we arrived we scattered throughout the various booths they had reserved for us. One of them was already packed with four young adults, but they managed to squeeze in a couple of my siblings. The littlest girls joined their little friends in another, and my dad and mom sat with the adults. There was one booth left for three more people—those of us who were in the “out”.

My two middle sisters and I looked each other over. There was no more room for us with the young adults, none for us with the little girls, and we certainly weren’t adults. We had as much fun as we could muster staring each other and trying to catch snatches of the conversation in that wildly fun booth.

One of the dads walked by with an extra piece of pizza and kindly asked us if we wanted it because if not he would give it to the big kids. We said we didn’t want it, and he carried it away. I wasn’t a big kid? After all I was older than at least three of the young adults in that booth.

A few of the friends left and my middle sisters took the opportunity to take their places for the last remaining moments at the pizza place. I was all alone.

It really was all right. Our friends were so sweet to buy us pizza, and I had a great time just being near them. It still bothered me though, as have other experiences a lot like this.

Looking back (hindsight is always 20/20), I’ve realized a few things I should have thought of…

1.      Pizza is awesome. Nuff said.

2.      We should have had more fun. My middle sisters and I could have stopped staring at each other and came up with a crazy story idea or something.

3.      There are always other people in the “out” too. I should have realized that my middle sisters probably felt the same way I did and found ways to encourage them.

4.      When people leave me out they don’t usually mean anything by it. There really was no more room in that booth. When my sisters joined them—hooray for them!

5.      That dad didn’t mean anything by his words. I was told twice that day that I looked younger than I actually am. : ) (And I should take that as a compliment…)

6.      I can join the adults! In this case there wasn’t room for me, but sometimes they have more interesting and encouraging things to say than do those of my peer group.

7.      God is always there. Somewhere in C.S. Lewis’s revolutionary essay “The Weight of Glory” he mentions that in heaven we will be famous. Not famous with other people—no, everyone is equal—but famous with God. How beautiful is that? I can be fully known by Him and never forgotten!

So next time I am “in the out”, I need to remember that there are always things to do and people to love there too. : )