First Moments

A little green bee-eater in Keoladeo Bird Sanctuary, India. Tiny and vivid and swift–a perfect metaphor for a writer’s first fleeting idea for a new story.

I was talking with my writers’ group yesterday about that moment when an idea starts to form in your head. You’re thrilled yet anxious–what if you get distracted and it vanishes? What if what seems wonderful and glowing and yes! at this moment turns out to be absurd or embarrassing or just plain stupid a little later on, in the cold light of reason?

One of my friends quoted C. S. Lewis, saying that this moment is like birdwatching–you see something precious and beautiful and rare alight near you, but you know you can’t grab at it or you’ll lose it. So you sit, quietly, patiently, and then another image comes to join the first, and another, and you have it–the story. The start.

Another said it wasn’t images that she saw, but a mood she sensed–lightthearted and zany, sad but tough, tender and funny. This makes sense because I’ve yet to see her write two stories that are similar. Each one has a unique emotional hue.

For me, it’s a character–actually, it’s a sense of a character’s journey, like a glimmering thread. I can get this person from HERE to THERE. I’m not sure how or what will happen along the way, but I can glimpse the path we’re going to travel on.