Authors
look at life from a unique angle. What seems like a regular day to
anyone else, presents opportunities to an author. Each event stays in
our memory banks, waiting to be used for a short story, novel or
poem. We withdraw from the bank as needed, adding to the balance of
our stories.
I
find myself going through my day, listening and watching, always
thinking if something will eventually make it into a book. I don't
consciously remember them, nor do I plan to add things, they just
sort of show up.
It
amazes my husband that every time I go out, I come back with a story.
Whether it be a conversation that took place in the store, a
near-miss accident on the road, or crazy people in the parking lot at
the mall, I always have something.
Do
these things happen to other people? Seriously. Does everyone have a
crazy, drunk lady walk up to them in the mall parking lot and ask if
her hair looks all right? She's obviously wearing a cheap wig, okay?
It looks horrible. Do I say that? Oh, hell no! “It looks
lovely,” I reply as I quickly get in my car and lock the door.
Did
anyone else notice the old lady in Panera Bread who stood ahead of me
in line? I doubt it, but it stuck with me so much, I finally had to
write it down. The line was long and a young man ahead of us had on a
black Pantera jacket. The lettering was pale yellow and a
white skull was behind the 'T', making it look like it said Panera.
“Why
do you suppose he's standing in this long line,” she asked her
husband in a worried tone. “If he works here, shouldn't he be able
to walk up and get whatever he wants?” She carried on like that for
some time.
I
couldn't let the poor old darling keep thinking that he worked there,
could I? She was getting herself all worked up. So I spoke to her.
“It
doesn't say Panera. It says Pantera. The 'T' is obscured by a skull.”
“Oh.
What does that mean?”
“Pantera
is a heavy metal band.”
“Heavy
what?”
“Heavy
metal – hard rock.”
“Oh!
Fancy you knowing a thing like that.”
“I
have teenagers,” I said, diplomatically. I didn't have the heart to
tell the old dear that I'd been listening to Cowboys
from Hell moments
before walking into the store.
My
daughter and I were once in Winn Dixie doing some shopping. She
wanted a case of sodas, so we loaded up some Coca-Cola. A little
further down the aisle, we saw Pepsi was on sale, so we backed up the
cart saying, in unison, “No Coke. Pepsi.” Like they did in the
old Saturday Night Live skit. An elderly gentleman walked around the
corner just as we said that. I'm sure he thought we were both
completely insane.
Though
my daughter isn't an author, she has equally strange things happen to
her. She called me once and told me some man had come up to her in
the store. “Clearly, English was not his first language,” she
imparted. “He smiled and said, 'How may I pronounce your name?'”
Another
time, she told me she'd seen a man going down the street, talking in
sign language. He was obviously having an argument with himself. He
would stand one way, gesture and fling the comments at another
person.
Then the second person
would
reply – different stance, but same aggressive gestures. He will one
day make it into a book.
Random people I meet at the
grocery store have been included in several books, some of them, not
too favorably. The old woman who purposely hit me with her shopping
cart – she's there. The older couple who blocked the sweet potatoes
and couldn't hear when I asked to get around them – they're in
another. The kindly gentleman who gave me advice in the wine section,
he's also there, but more favorably.
The point I'm making is that
inspiration comes from a variety of sources, but the most important
for any author is the ability to observe. Everything you see, hear,
smell or feel can be used to enhance a story. Never pass up an
opportunity to deposit in your memory bank.
©
Dellani Oakes
