Finding Ideas

Where does one find ideas?

I have a few options already conveniently laid out for that, just in case you’re wondering and would like a bit of inspiration for your next writing session.

Ideas may be found:

• when you’re on the back of a rhino during sweeps week
• when you’re looking for an easy win at whatever particular sweepstakes gobbledygook
• in the shower, when you’re rehashing the constitutionality of bellybutton rings
• when going down an elaborate water slide and your swim attire bunches up on you
• in the intricate landmass of one’s diverted psyche
• in the cheaps bin at your friendly neighborhood record store
• as you’re taking a break from the mindless rock breaking that Uncle Sam thought you’d enjoy doing as an act of courtesy towards the U S of A
• when the idea of finding ideas has gone horribly wrong and you’re scrounging around in the dark to try to concoct something before your friends ridicule you for taking so long to come up with just one idea, but then you remember that you don’t have any friends, and you’ve been defending yourself this whole time (while everybody around you seems to lack interest in your entire deal, which seems ludicrous to you until you passionately enlist the support of total strangers and get the reaction that only the more pragmatic among your friend group would have predicted, if said friend group were to actually exist)

So when you’re out there flagging down ideas, just remember one or two of these techniques and your creativity will flourish because of it!

Nothing Quite Like

Checking all the AC units in an underfunded public school for gremlins
or
building a steakhouse out of cotton swabs and earwax
or
charging a rhinoceros with grand larceny for the theft of pretentious stereo equipment
or
engineering the perfect dinner party, only to lose your sole lucky sock twelve minutes before the first guest’s arrival
or
a quick spritz from the produce section while you’re on your way to the local rock opera group’s weekly public dress rehearsal
or
notching your belt for no reason in particular, other than to impress strangers who are peculiar enough to examine your belt for such markings (you run in a strange crowd)
or
listing the daily indignities experienced by your average woman artist as you’re also trying to figure out the way to San Jose
or
just being the stagnant kind of person who won’t listen to reason when faced with the unfettered opinions brought forth by the more stable individuals in your life.