Spawn the Story

In college I had a professor/author by the name of Tait , a man whom once taught us an important lesson on writing. Oftentimes he heard from several struggling students that they could not spawn the proper ideas and complementary plots and characters that needed to go along with their ideas. My professor at the time gave us several exercises to get our gray-matter in working order.

The first example he came up with was a stage. And on that stage was a rotating chair with a white shelled egg. The unassuming learners was told to imagine themselves sitting in that chair while carefully nestling the egg. As the chair spun around two brick doors appeared. The door on the right appears to refuse you, not willing to be opened at this time. However the left door swings open and there you see... What exactly?

The second example was a lie. Stating that it is a lie was a story in itself, yet we did not know this till the end. As it started, Professor Tait told us a story about his old home in Florida. He said, "The state itself is weird, but could you image my disbelief when I found out a horrible truth. I used to see this older man with graying hair and a cane that looked so brittle it might snap. But that is not the weird part. No that is quite normal. What was weird is that he was a mass murder. How was it that I found out? Several days after my forty-third birthday I noticed an odd sight. There seemed to be red all over my neighbors garage. At the time I thought it was paint and that his grandson Nick was there to do some work. Yet I did not see Nick there, I didn't see him anywhere for that matter. I was at my mailbox at the time and I noticed the smudges and splatters leading up to his Porsche. This was startling and it made me quiver. Was it blood? I wondered this. Taking out my cell phone I took a few pictures as I got closer. With each step I felt as if someone was looking over my shoulder or from a bush. As I focused on his car I felt my stomach lurch to my mouth. There was a woman's head looking at me from the back seat...and all I saw was just the head".

To our relief the story was fake. Tait laughed with great amusement at our troubled and gawking stares. But he had us going. That was the key. He simply told us a lie. How were we to know it was fake? When you know not who the story teller really is or anything about them for that matter, you find yourself trying to discern the truth. Think about it for a moment. What is a lie but a well told story?

The third exercise was a bit more straight forward. Tait told us to think back to our childhood. If I had to pick one cartoon character to be friends with and go on adventures with, who would it be? What would we do? Where would we go and when? We were told to unlock our imaginations and let loose. If I wanted to have a beer with Jessica Rabbit, why not? Maybe I could meet up with the G.I. Joes and hunt down Cobra. It was limitless. The possibilities were numerous and plenty.

Take a word of advice from me. Don't stress about what to write. Writing is meant to be about the story, about the characters and places. Write to escape. Write to invent. And lastly, write to have some fun for once.