Pulling Inspiration From Everything

So I went on holiday to Ibiza. The timing was impeccable. First Draft of my novel complete, no real holiday in about 18 months and it’s always nice to get out of London.

It’s always nice to get away from anywhere eventually.

And despite the craving I had to write something…anything…I kept my fingers away from the keyboard and let the juices in my brain ferment.

Some parts of Ibiza are incredibly run down. Half-finished buildings, burnt-out, abandoned cars. Being there before the club season started gave it this ghost town aura. Outdated billboards, fenced off, bleak amusement parks. And barely a fucker around.

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Upon realising this, I felt something shift in my skull. Until that point, I had resented going away. Leaving my book, leaving London. What could be gained from going to Ibiza? But the shuttered shop windows and the endless, rocky stony beaches then turned into a source of inspiration rather than a cause of depression.

I won’t give too much away, but my novel is vaguely dystopian and I started to see my characters set in this place. These buildings, these shops, the relentlessly violent sea. I took many pictures and even set up and Instagram and a Pinterest account to log them (and also so I could follow Taylor Swift…ah, Taylor!).

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On the 10am flight back to Stanstead, I was pretty sure I was the only one who hadn’t come straight from a club. The gurning guy next to me with the snapback cap and FUCK tattooed across the toes of his left foot went to see Fat Boy Slim last night. ‘It was at Pascha,’ he saidm and not 1998 as I had presumed.

A drunk Scotsman was talking loudly about how he had once killed someone and was kicking the back of my chair throughout the flight. Every now and then he would burst into a torrent of slurred song. He was bald and sunburnt. Fucker looked like a baked bean with eyes.

As the Scotsman began a new verse of some unintelligible song or other with a whack to my chair, I thought right then that swimming back home might have been a less stressful option than taking the Easy Jet flight. But then I scribbled away in my notes and two new characters where born.

FUCK Toes and the Sunburnt Scotsman.

Inspiration strikes from the unlikeliest of places.

20 comments

  1. I read at least six of your posts. Enjoyed them all. As to first person present POV. Yeah, people hate it because they become part of the story. It’s tense and makes the action seem real. As to self-doubt. If you don’t have it something is wrong and you will stop stretching yourself. As to feeling down after the draft is done. Shit yeah, you feel down since there is nothing driving you to get back to the writing. You know the old “I gotta get so and so out of the mess I left them in yesterday.” (also editing is crap work. Creating is the bliss) As to following my blog. Thank you very much.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks John. I’m due to start editing next week. I know a great deal of my first draft is bullshit, so even thinking about starting the edit fills me with dread. But I guess that’s the process. Mould it and mould it until it’s great (hopefully!).
      Very much enjoyed your blog and will get myself a copy of My Girl once I’ve finished the current novel I’m reading.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hey … thanks for your follow. Never knew you were around until now. Now a loyal follower as well. 😀 FUCK Toes and the Sunburnt Scotsman! Great names. Could be a good name for a cocktail. I’ll have a Sunburnt Scotsman please. That’s 5 measures of whisky, 2 measures of gin, a dash of petrol, beaten together with a baseball bat and served with a deep-fried Mars Bar.
    What part of London are you from by the way ?
    All the best. Kris.
    http://www.awritersden.wordpress.com

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Kris! Pleased to meet you. I’m from Hackney. Before the gentrification…
      The cocktail sounds lovely, although I think you’d also need to top it off with Irn Bru. Just to make it authentic, you know…

      Like

  3. Sunburnt gets killed in bizarre power chair incident. Crushed but left with only head and feet. Fuck toes better drink name anyway, throw a bunch of olives in assorted booze. Thanks for follow. Travel is always gives writing material.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. A baked bean with eyes. Terrific imagery. I’ve always wanted to go to Ibiza. I assumed it was gorgeous, sun filled, gorgeous people, clubbing 24/7. Off season, with the glare of the sun, you can really see what lies behind the beauty.

    Liked by 1 person

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