Hands down, the number one question I'm constantly asked is "Where do you get your ideas?" Thinking literally (not always good) I developed a long-winded, seemingly clever explanation involving the coalescence of imagination and storytelling. But as eyes glazed over and attention wavered, I decided to rethink my words. Where exactly did I get my jump-starts? How did I pull up random evil doings and package them in a palatable mix of mystery and murder? Because this whole process surely doesn't come easy. At its best, the writing process is sticky and hard. At is toughest, it's like trying to coax the La Brea tar pits into turgidly spitting up a few more wooly mammoth bones.
I sat in my office pondering this heady question, deadlines looming. Glancing about nervously, I once again thought, What a mess. Empty Diet Coke bottles everywhere, crumpled M&M wrappers, week-old newspapers, crowded bookshelves. Gotta clean this dump up.
Then I realized . . . hold everything, baby love, because this is where I get my ideas.
See that gigantic leather bound copy of Larousse Gastronomique sitting on the book shelf? Same one Hannibal Lecter used in Red Dragon for his sweetbreads recipe. Pretty cool, huh? Next to it sits an unopened bottle of Vampire Wine. Aged, no doubt, for about three days in some obscure Transylvanian vineyard. But it's fun and kind of wicked-looking and reminds me of rainy nights with bare branches tick-ticking against the window panes and dark shadows swirling everywhere.
Also on the shelf is a boxed set of shot glasses. The packaging screams "Drink With The Great Drinkers!" Inside are shot glasses with grainy images of Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker, William Faulkner, and Ernest Hemingway. Pretty heady company. Especially when cocktail hour rolls around.
When I started writing the Tea Shop Mysteries, I began to acquire teapots. Cute like chintz-patterned teapots, serious and stodgy sterling silver teapots, and squat little Brown Bettys. Now I have about fifty teapots, all crowded together on a shelf like a Greek chorus, silently urging me on with my next Tea Shop Mystery.
Likewise, my Scrapbook Mysteries also account for a certain amount of detritus. Strands of colorful Mardi Gras beads are looped everywhere. And there's a jar filled with doubloons as well as a hand-painted coconut handed to me by a member of the Zulu krewe during their amazing Fat Tuesday parade. Who knew they only gave out fifty coconuts all year? A sign for setting my mysteries in New Orleans? A portent? I sure thought so.
When I started penning the Cackleberry Club Mysteries, I somehow acquired a stuffed and feathered rooster. Now he accompanies me to book signings everywhere. Kids love him.
There's also a stuffed black crow, appropriately named Edgar Allan, who lurks above my desk, scowling down. There's also a grinning skull and a dangerous-looking dark purple bottle that looks suspiciously like it might contain poison. They're both there to remind me I'm writing murder mysteries. Mysteries that have to thrill, chill, and carry readers away for a few brief shivering moments -- or hours.
A couple of quotes, scrawled in longhand, hang on my computer. My favorite one is from Tom Hanks in the movie, A League of Their Own. It goes: "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard everybody would be doing it. It's the hard that makes it great."
Where do I get my ideas? Everywhere. In the air I breathe, the magazines, books, and newspapers I read, the daily events in this crazy, wildly spinning world. Where do I get my drive and inspiration? From the touchstones bestowed on me by friends, family, and some very dear readers.
What inspires you?
Editor's Note: Laura Childs is the author of the bestselling Tea Shop Mysteries, Scrapbook Mysteries, and the Cackleberry Club Mysteries.
