The Random Yak

When people learn that I blog (or send me e-mail through the blog) they tend to ask one question more than any other.

The answer is, “No, I was born this way.”

Actually, the question they really ask is: “How do you find new things to write about?”

The answer to that one proves a little more difficult to answer, though in truth, I don’t find topics.

Topics find me.

I’ve frightened more than one good friend by pointing out that the content of this blog represents a fairly accurate sampling of The Things That Go On In My Head.  (It’s a strange place, but feel free to stop by.  We’ve always got room for one more.) 

I think most (rabid regular) bloggers would agree that blogging is less about finding something to write than it is about letting the ideas out.  You know, the ones that batter the inside of your brain like bees in a bottle, determined to hammer their way through the glass and making the little “tink, tink, tink” sound that prevents you from focusing on anything else.  (Not that I’ve ever put bees in a bottle.  Or shaken it to see what would happen.  That would be cruel.  It would also really, really annoy the bees.  Probably.)

Now that I’ve started writing, the problem usually relates more to deciding what not to publish than figuring out what to say.  For every entry that goes to press, four more never made it off the drawing board.  Someday I might start a list of the Entries That Didn’t Quite Make the Cut, if only for purposes of the Thursday 13.  (Then again, maybe I already did that and don’t remember it.) 

The real answer to the question “where do your ideas come from” is “keeping my eyes open and my fingers on the keys, not necessarily in that order.”  Writers write.  Bloggers blog.  If you want to write, just sit down and do it.  It doesn’t necessarily have to make sense (and some days, it won’t) but if you keep writing the ideas will follow.  Soon, they’ll start flowing in on their own, based on something you see or something you hear.  Eventually, you’ll find yourself overwhelmed with material.  At that point, it comes down to editing: figuring out what your readers will most want to see, what you most want to write, and (don’t ever forget) what you’ll be excommunicated from the family for disclosing over the world wide web.  (Take it from me, #3 is a killer, but you’ll sleep better – and more safely – if you remember it.)

The ideas themselves come from all over the place. Some come from God.  Some come from men.  Some come from the guy on the plane who says something so unbelievable that all you can think is, “please, please hit ten thousand feet soon so I can start blogging this.”  The best ones come from your family, friends and children – though you’d better learn to watch your mouth or you’ll end up having to delete some of your best material before you start because they’ll make you promise, on pain of death (or worse, waking up with half a shaved head) that you won’t publish it. (See also: Why I Cannot Share the First Time Yak the Younger Saw a Bidet.) 

Laugh, and the world laughs with you.  Write, and sometimes they laugh at you.  

Hey, it’s a start.

Trackposted to Perri Nelson’s Website, The Pink Flamingo, third world county, and The World According to Carl, thanks to Linkfest Haven Deluxe.