The House of Writing Metaphors - Wall Mounted Light & Partner In Crime, the Register

As mentioned before, there is a fixture trying to kill me in the Bathroom of Self-Loathing. And no, it's not the usual case of me being overly dramatic. This lovely little piece of business is a fan of being manually turned on, and its devastatingly understated buddy, Mr. Metal Register, is fond of just lying there and waiting for you to step on him. Together, they create an electric partnership that can quite literally, shock you.

Yeah, I know, there's definitely something not quite right going on there, and I should do the normal thing and call an electrician. Somehow it's more fun to explain to unsuspecting visitors the proper way to use the bathroom without being injured.

Also, when I first discovered this dynamic duo I didn't quite understand what had happened. In order for the circuit to be complete, I had to be barefoot, standing on the register, and touching the light switch. Some wild test runs that had me fearing I was crazy (and had the b/f totally convinced) proved that all factors had to be present.

Inspiration can be like that - fast, unexpected, and hard to recreate later. If you're lucky enough to have figured out exactly where your foot needs to be, what you should be wearing, and where to put your hands in order to get that imaginative electric shock, then you are one lucky individual.

Do you have an inspiration process? Is there a routine you keep to with your writing that helps?

The House of Writing Metaphors - Pretty Possibilities Hidden in the Barn

Once upon a time, I found a clawfoot tub in a barn. Yes, really. One of those cast iron babies that makes you wonder how one thing could be so impossibly heavy. I'm not exactly a butterfly, and even I could only raise one end off the floor about two inches, then the curled edge felt like it was going to take my finger down to the bone.

So I had a debacle. Leave this possibly awesome, yet horribly disfigured and grotesquely heavy thing in the barn? Or, make it what it's supposed to be. I chose the hard route (I'm funny like that), and coughed up the money to have it refinished, then a coalition of kindly farmers came over and moved it into the house and up the Staircase of Fate for me. It was a struggle (on their part - not mine, I had firm instructions to just stand there), and three very big men said very bad words by the time it was said and done.

But now it's upstairs, in the newly redecorated bathroom (and I mean down to the studs) that is right around the corner from the Superfluous Banister. I don't have the money for the plumbing parts yet, but I know that once this baby is finished it'll be worth the investment of time and money, and other people's physical strength.

As writers, there are ideas in our heads like that. We've got ideas that we keep re-shelving, telling ourselves we're not good enough writers to tackle that one yet, or it's too sprawling we don't know where to begin. For me, it's a piece of historical fiction that I'm not sure I've got the research cajones to do right, or the time to invest to do that research in the first place.

But I think we need to face those big projects head on, tell ourselves it's worth the time, the effort, and the heavy lifting. We might get something beautiful out of it in the end.

What's your big project? Have you got something you don't trust yourself to write just yet?

The House of Writing Metaphors - Hell's Chimney

Part of the charm of having an old house is chimneys. Real brick chimneys that shoot straight through two floors of house, right out of the roof. But I've got one in particular that doesn't seem to end. This bugger has a locatable top (predictably, on the roof), but the bottom seems to keep on going... straight down to, uh, whatever is down there. Also, there's not a fire*place*, just a chimney. Yes, Mindy’s HoWM really is a quirky place.

As a writer, how often are you asked this question: "Where do you get your ideas?"

That's a tough one, 'cause hell - I don't know! Sometimes I can trace the origin back to a dream, or something I observed in my people watching that bloomed into a story. But usually I have no idea, and I don't question it. Inspiration is so fleeting that I don't search for the source, I'm grateful that it's there, and to whatever muse feels like I'm the right person to drop it on.

Much like Hell's Chimney, I don't ask. I just go with it, decorate around it, and watch what unfolds.

What's your source of inspiration?