Write It Where You Are

Wandering off into the world to write you heart out takes a lot of moxie ( I love that word), finesse, and plain old determination.  In my last post I spoke about the heart of adventure writing being about the removal of thyself from your local writing haunt, and gaining inspiration from your environment while you work.  I have found this process to be very helpful while creating my narratives in a few different ways:

1.  Setting 

Writing scenes are easier if you are in the scenery (or a similar setting) that you are writing about.  Think about it; how many times have you been scratching the old skull-noggin, trying to figure out what realistic, mundane detail could give your work a tinge of reality.  I personally love to have my characters pick their nose; a simple, gross thing really, but let's face it...there are two kinds of people in the world: those that pick their nose, and those that lie about it.  A similar setting will work too.  If you are writing about an ancient bazaar from a more antiquated time, go to your local flea-market and see how people haggle and interact with one another.

2.  Over the Wall  

Silence, peace, and distraction free...the forceful way.  Sometimes when I need to write,  I really don't want to.  Sometimes writing is way more of a job than a career (jobs suck, careers are fun).  I found that packing up my stuff and hitting the back country put me in an environment where I had nothing else to do but write.  It got me through some tough, dry spots and helped me push through.  I'm not saying the writing is always going to be without it's flaws, mind you, but I am saying that you can force yourself into keeping the pages rolling.

3.  Inspiration   

Sometimes you need to get out of the house and away from things that are familiar to get some inspiration.  It's important to recharge your creativity tank, and the way I've found to do that is to go somewhere beautiful that is quiet where I can think.  I've sat on top of lonely mountain peaks overlooking rolling hills and valleys while conversing (like a crazy man) with my main character about why he would do the things he does.  Sometimes I think about the big picture, or shout out my frustration to a godless sky.  But I always come away with some kind of fruit for my works, even if it does mean a major rewrite (why!?  Why can't it ever be good enough!).

THE CAMPER, THE HAT, AND THE BABY 'SQUATCH

One of my first adventures ended quicker than I originally planned.  I was having a really hard time concentrating at the house, and I kept finding other, more interesting things to do (I sat on a couch mouthing the word "bored" over and over again for days).  I had been planning the trip for a few months, researched the crap out of the gear I needed, finally figured out how to solve the all important power supply issues, and gathered up three day's worth of freeze-dried foods (food is important.  I like food.  Food doesn't like me.  I've also been bitten by the diabetes bug.  I need food).  

I kissed my wife good bye, told my seven children "toodles" and then dashed out the door.  I got in my 1988 Ford F150 rust bucket, floored it up into the mountains, and hiked my happy butt deep into the wilderness.  It was early in the morning, and early spring, too.  The weather had been in the 70's for the past two weeks, and I swear...I...swear...the weather was supposed to be sunny, warm, and only in the 60's at night.  That was probably true where I lived in the valley, but it was NOT true in the high places!

So there I was, the air quite chilly, ready for my own personal adventure.  I hiked all morning out to where I wanted to be for three days, enjoyed the solitude for a moment or two, and then hung my hammock.  The first problem I encountered was the amount of people that happened to frequent that part of the trail.  I was not the only person who thought the area was pretty, apparently.  I forgive the passersby, even though one guy stayed and chatted it up for an hour and a half.  After I got my camp all gussied, I hopped in my warm hammock nest with my trusty laptop in hand, and began pounding away at the keys.

All was well.  The sun was warm during the day, even if the air was a little chilly.  That was okay, you know?  I enjoyed my quiet time, and got pretty far in a chapter.  Soon the sun began to dip below the Western ridge line, and the dreaded shadow of on coming night was upon me.  I'm sure you're thinking I kept working, feverishly engulfed in my own, twisted genius spilling out onto the digitized page...I did not.  Nighttime meant sasquatches, bears, and balrog, not of which I was prepared to battle.

I took my nightly regimen of pills, and decided that, while the twilight still held, I would go ahead and knock myself out with my sleeping pill (which never, EVER kicked in).  The night came, and from the seasonal pond near the camp came the familiar chirping of the crickets and the grumbling calls of the tree frogs.  I thought to myself, "as long as the critters still call, nothing big is coming through.  I'll be fine."  

Silence. 

 Holy terror of satan himself.  There wasn't so much as a cricket's fart, it became so still.  I reached out in my pack (only a foot away from me), grabbed my can of bear spray along with a little bar-shaped flashlight.  I held it tight the whole night, too.  I kept imagining some hairy foot sticking out from underneath my tarp shelter, the angry  face of Harry  from "Harry and the Hendersons" staring down at me.  If not sasquatch then a bear, perhaps, come to paw at the big, greasy meat sack that I was, hanging from a tree like a bagged lunch.  Then there was the balrog, ready to drag me to hell.  You see, during the day you might hear the rustling of the leaves in the woods and your mind  says, "oh!  That's a cute little fury squirrel!"  At night though, everything is bigger.  The same sound then produces, "Oh Mother of God!  Sasquatch, yetis, devils and giants!"  Needless to say, I didn't sleep much, though I do remember passing out for about an hour or so.

The worst part was waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of chewing.  God awful, mouthfuls of flesh being savagely torn asunder.  It was my worst nightmare.  I new it was a bear (sasquatch) eating out of my pack.  Being the careless camper I was, I kept my food right by me too...not a foot away.  I grasped on tight to my flashlight and bear (sasquatch) spray, and tried to gain the courage it would take to move and vanquish my worthy foe.  Believe it or not I did...I did!  I had the courage!  I peeled back my nest quickly, pointed the light and...

Blinded myself.  

The freaking flashlight was pointed right at me.  By the time I turned it around and adjusted my eyes to the now pitch black darkness, whatever was there was gone.  I calmed myself by assuming it was just the hammock bouncing up against the pack, and that no little creature (sasquatch) was munching in my pack.  It was, after all, sealed up nice and tight.  But the sound of chewing continued.  I had convinced myself enough and ignored the sound, which went on most of the night.  

By the time the grey of morning came,  I was very tired...tired and really, really needing to use the bathroom (defending oneself from sasquatches all night may cause you to be too scared to go pee-pee).    So I sluggishly got out of my hammock and started to head back into the bush.  I didn't have my glasses on.  Why didn't I have my glasses on?!  If only I had my glasses on, I could have positively identified the  baby 'squatch (raccoon or opossum) that scurried away from my area.  I went and did my thing, watched the sun come up over the mountains, and then packed up and left (I check out of hotel Scare-the-%#*@-out-of-you two days early).  One of the last things I did was put on my Boston Red Sox ball cap.

You know what I did with that hat the year before?  Swam in the ocean with it.  It was as salty as the sea, and probably more so from my own sweat, too.  When I got home and took a nice, long, hot shower, I got dressed and reached for my hat.  It was then that I noticed a small, chewed through hole in the band of it!  Whatever the creature, it must have been after the salt in my hat, and had hung out with me the whole night to get some.

You want to know what I learned?  Solo camping in the middle of nowhere is terrifying!  But it gave me an experience I'll never forget. Not to mention, it gave me a way to jump start my creativity and really open my world up to new possibilities.  

Have you ever had an experience like that?  If so, tell us about it in the comments below.  Please remember to share this stuff and pass along my chicken-nuggety bits of writing awesomeness to your friends!