Become an Idea Catcher

"Everybody walks past a thousand story ideas every day. The good writers are the ones who see five or six of them. Most people don't see any." -- Orson Scott Card

"If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad." -- Lord Byron

So you've decided you want to write, whether for yourself or for publishing. The next problem you might run into is what to write about. For some, ideas come easily and frequently. It's as if the creative muses love them and whisper constant inspiration in their ears. For others, sometimes me included, we have to work for the muse to talk to us. We have to search for inspiration.

Are there really ideas everywhere? It seems impossible, but it's not. We can find all sorts of stories if we pay attention to what's going on around us. If you are at a loss for what to write, here are some ideas to help you out:

Ask, "What if?" You will find "what if" is the greatest question a writer can ask. What if animals can really speak English, they just choose not to? What if there's a whole secret world underground? What if the Bermuda Triangle is really a door to an alternate universe? What if...?

The key to "what if" is to keep asking until you've got a full story plot.

The five senses (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste) play a major role in creating a story. Things that are apart of everyday living, like nature, are great for inspiring. When you walk past that creepy tree in your neighbor's yard, can you insert it in a story? A certain smell often brings up an image, like when you smell homemade bread do you think of your grandma's kitchen? The one I specifically love is listening to music. Music can give us hundreds of ideas if we sit back and let our mind go wherever it wants. And how often do you listen to music? If you don't very often, start. And don't just have one genre, like rock or metal. Listen to all kinds, even if you don't necessarily love it, just to see what kind of images come about.

"I keep little notepads all over the place to write down ideas as soon as they strike, but the ones that fill up the quickest are always the ones at my nightstand." -- Terri Guillemets

Dreams are another wonderful tool to the writer. Sometimes we can dream up the wildest things that could make a really good novel. That's why we should put a notebook on our nightstands just in case. When we wake up in the middle of the night, we can roll over and write just a summary of what we'd just seen. Who knows? Maybe the vision of one in the morning can be the next bestseller.

The last suggestion is to read, read, and read. Of course, no one is going to copy an exact idea. But there is no general NEW idea. What makes a book unique is being able to combine old ideas in new ways. Take that idea and make it your own. If you're reading Harry Potter, think, "What if---" See? There's the question again! "---instead of a wizards' school there's a school for spies? Or a school for evil geniuses? Or...?" If you're a Twilight fan, maybe you'll think, "What if it's a boy who falls in love with someone he's not supposed to? Is she a fallen angel? A magic creature? The daughter of an enemy?" You never know what ideas you can get by reading.

As writers, we are story detectives. The best way to find a great story is to hold up our magnifying glass and search for clues that will lead us to find that story. So go on out and round up those ideas! Good luck!

What Makes a Writer?

"Writers are just people who have a whole lot on the inside that they need to get to the outside, with pen and paper as their preferred method of transport." - Graycie Harmon

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein." - Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith

Some people assume to be a writer, you must have the desire to be published one day. Or maybe you have to be one of those people who spends all their time writing and re-writing, checking spelling and grammar and all that fun stuff. Not true. Anyone can be a writer, even those who didn't exactly get "A"s in English.

The purpose of writing isn't to use big words that most readers would need a dictionary to define or to even have readers. The purpose of writing is to take what you have in your mind or your heart and transfer it to paper. You don't need to be a word wizard. You don't need to be a great story teller. Just find a pen and notebook or open up Word on your computer and begin.

Now you must ask yourself: how?

I liked "Red" Smith's statement, "...open a vein". Everyone has a story they want to tell, whether it's to a massive audience or to the lines of their paper. Maybe you've had an idea for a while and you wish someone would take that idea from you and write a book. YOU can write that book. Give it a try. Or others maybe just had a crappy day and they don't feel like anyone is listening to them. Writing is like therapy...only free. Carve every emotion you have on paper, and you'll feel so much better.

Once you find what's inside of you, let it go. You're not allowed to keep secrets from the notebook. Slice that vein open and bleed all over the page. Put down your hopes, your dreams. Write about your fears, your confusion, your uncertainty. People are great listeners when they want to be, but pen and paper exist to hear you.

So what if you can't remember the difference between "to", "two", or "too"? Who cares if you misspell every word you write or forget to capitalize names? It doesn't matter in the beginning. Just write for the sake of putting down thoughts, experiences, and feelings.

Of course, if you want to be published, you have to be concerned with grammar. But the point of having a rough draft is to make it rough. The first time around, put everything down you can think of. When the next drafts come around, then you can smooth out the bumpy road.

Just remember, writing is supposed to be fun. No matter what you write or why, it needs to be enjoyable, or there's simply no point to it.

Happy writing!

Advice for Writers

After making this blog, I wasn't sure what to do with it exactly. I've decided to turn it into an advice blog for people like me who love writing.

I'm not exactly a published author yet, but I hope to be. I've got a lot of ideas for novels, and it'd be amazing to have those novels on the shelves of some of my favorite bookstores. I also decided I'd like to make a Writer's Club. If I ever succeed with that, I can post our discussions on the blog.

Every writer needs advice, and every writer has advice to give. So over the next few days, I'm going to plot out things I've learned and would like to write about. Maybe someone will read it and find it helpful, or maybe no one will read it at all. The important thing is that I'll have written it down just in case.

A Quick Timeline

"Not life, but good life, is to be chiefly valued." -Socrates

"I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men's lives." -Henry David Thoreau in Walden, or Life in the Woods.

I've lived for seventeen years and some odd months. Obviously that's not a lot of time to experience much of life, but what I have experienced has been great. I'm not the best with dates and remembering when what happened, but what's important is I remember them happening. Since I'm terrible at writing in journals, I haven't written most of these events anywhere. So here's a general timeline for my life.

October 19th, 1992

• I was born in St. George, Utah to my parents. A lot of my family thought I was going to be a boy (every ultrasound Mom had, I was turned in the wrong direction. Mom says I was shy even as a baby). Imagine the surprise when it turns out I'm a girl! Dad hit the floor...

April 22nd, 1996

• Kiss those only child days bye-bye. Braden Wade Widdison came into this world with a head of brown hair. We've been good friends ever since!

When I was Seven

• My family was sealed in the St. George LDS temple in November. There are parts of the sealing I can't for the life of me remember, but I remember feeling happy I was there. I remember tip-toeing through the rooms with Braden's hand in mine.

When I was Eight

• I was baptized, and what an event that was! I used to be terrified of the water. The original plan of Dad standing on my feet to keep me from floating backfired (and by backfired I mean Dad forgot to step on my feet, and when my bangs started floating, he shoved me down deeper. Thinking my dad was trying to drown me, I panicked. I started to kick. Have you ever seen an eight year old give their father a murderous glance that reads "You'll pay for this later" right after they come out of the water on their baptism day? No? You should have been there then.)
• On December 5th, Logan James Widdison was born a whole five weeks early. Lug, a name we called him because he was easy to lug around, was small but thankfully healthy. I have two of the best little brothers in the world.

When I was Twelve

• I entered Young Womens and found I liked it even more than Primary!

When I was Fifteen

• I think fifteen was the most productive year. I had one of the greatest experiences getting my Patriarchal Blessing. The car broke down in the rain, and Dad ran about two miles to get another car so we could make it. I'm so grateful he did that. I got my driver's permit and learned to navigate on the roads in St. George. Then we had to move for financial/job reasons; we loaded up the good ol' U-Haul and drove back to my parents' hometown, Clinton. I had to learn to navigate new roads, and I wasn't too excited about that.
• I had my first kiss.
• I passed stupid, treacherous, easy-to-be-dramatic-about driver's ed during the summer.
• Started high school and made new friends easily.

When I was the Sweet Sixteen

• I got my driver's licence.
• I went to my first school dance, homecoming! I went STAG.
• My dad fixed up a beat up Ford Bronco 2 for me to drive. I love that hunk of junk.

Now I'm seventeen. I still haven't been on a date, but one will come soon...I hope. I moved again, but I'm still located in Clinton. I'm planning on my future (college, career, etc.). I'll be taking the stupid ACTs in a few weeks, and I hope I do well. Colleges love high ACT scores. My life is ordinary, plain, and yet I love it. It has its ups and downs, but that's life. So I haven't gone on a date yet. I've got time! I've got my whole life ahead of me.

Quotes, Phobias, and Creepy Stories

I love quotes, especially if they mean something to me. I can be pretty annoying when watching a movie because I like the quote as much as I can remember. Lately I've taken to either whispering the line under my breath or running through it in my mind to spare my family from having to listen to me. But since I'm such a lover of quotes, I'm going to post the ones I love. So today's quote is from C.S. Lewis, author of the Chronicles of Narnia series.

"A mother's job is to protect her children from the world, and the father's job is to protect the world from the mother."

That quote fits my parents perfectly. Mom's like a Mama Bear. If she feels her cubs are threatened, she'll rip the culprit's head off. I've always loved that about Mom. And Dad has to make sure she doesn't do something the law will be after her for. Dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be, but I think Mom's a little scarier depending on the situation.

Moving on, I realized when I wrote down the few facts about me, I never discussed my phobias. I have quite a few of them. Some of them are silly---there's no reason I should have them---and others are understandable. I think the silliest phobia I have is of bees, wasps, hornets, etc. Mom hates them, too, but she's allergic. I have never been stung in my life. So why do I have such an insane fear of them? No idea. All I know is that every time I hear something buzz near me, or I see one of those suckers flying by me, I freak out. I scream and run. I remember one time I thought I'd die of a heart attack. It was in second or third grade, and I was walking home with one of my friends. She pointed at my shoulder, and a bee was sitting right on my shirt. It had tried to sting my shoulder, but its stinger got stuck in my shirt, and it died right there. I could see its honeycomb eyes; the bee looked evil. I remember dancing in place, shrieking, "Get it off! Get it off!" My friend had to grab it with a tissue. It crunched. I hate bees.

Besides the unreasonable fear of any bug with a stinger (scratch that. I just don't like any bugs, stinger or no.), I also have a fear of pain. Anything that causes me pain, whether it's physical or emotion, I tend to shrink away from. Unless it's pregnancy. I'm really excited for that, and a few of my friends think I'm insane. Maybe I should rephrase the statement. I'm afraid of pain that doesn't result in anything obviously good or remotely helpful. I'm afraid of losing a close member of my family or friends. I'm afraid to get in a car wreck and either be injured myself or injure anyone else. I'm afraid of being killed. The list goes on and on. I play it safe, sometimes too safe. I just don't want to hurt.

Ghosts are terrifying to me as well. Not those lost spirits who want help and mean me no harm. I mean more like the souls of murderers who possess and haunt and frighten and try to harm. Dark spirits. Fortunately, I've never been in a house with dark spirits trying to hurt me. However, I always feel eerie when I'm alone. I'm not saying for sure there's anything here, but I do get the occasional "someone's watching me" feeling. And I see images flashing at night when I'm sitting in my dark room. I have a very paranoid mind, so my imagination gets the better of me. There's someone standing at the edge of my bed. I heard someone say something, but no one's there. Don't look behind you; stare straight at your room and don't look back until your door is closed. The list goes on and on. I've never really gotten the feeling that anything wanted to hurt me, but I'm extremely jumpy. Call me crazy, but I don't imagine a ghost popping up behind me while I'm walking around my dark house going over too well.

I actually have a few sweet but creepy stories about ghosts or spirits, or what appeared to be one or the other. One was probably just my paranoid mind going at work, and the other I know wasn't me because it happened to someone else.

The first one happened a few years ago when I was living in St. George, in a house built in the 1960s. I was home alone because Mom had to pick the boys up from school. I was downstairs in the kitchen, and I walked towards the back door when I heard a little girl call out, "Ashton." Reasons for panicking: 1. I was alone. Completely. No one home. 2. Other than Mom, I was and still am the only girl at home. I ran outside and waited for Mom to come home.

This second story always gives me a weird feeling. It's not one of those "a friend of a friend" stories. It's a "this happened to my parents" story. We were living in Diamond Valley many years ago, which made me pretty young. Mom and Dad were sleeping. When I was little, whenever I had a nightmare, I would walk into my parents' room and just stare at my mom. She'd feel someone watching her and would wake up to find me standing at her side. Creepy enough, right? I'll admit I was an oddball. But one night was different. Mom woke up and saw me come into her room and sit at the end of the bed. I stared at her. She asked me if I'd had a nightmare. I didn't answer. Just stared. She reached out to touch me, but I wasn't there anymore. Mom laid back down, not too concerned since she was still half asleep. This wouldn't have been the first time she had imagined something being there. But not seconds after she laid back down, Dad asked her, "What did Ashton want?"

Either I pulled a Houdini or something else went on. I honestly have no explanation for that last story. It really creeps me out.

Well, here's where I end for today. Until next time.

My Family

Behind every talented, intelligent, and somewhat insane person there's a family that loves her for who she is. My family has always stood by me, and I don't think I'll ever get rid of them (like I'd even want to!). I don't know what I'd do without them.

Mom and Dad married when they were eighteen. They were a really cute couple when they started dating in their junior year of high school. Of course, they started out as friends, and now they're the best of friends. Mom had me at twenty-three; she still can't believe I'm seventeen now. Neither one of my parents look old enough to have me.

Mom's really pretty. She's short, like me, and has blond hair, also like me. But her hair's way shorter than mine. I like it that way. She loves being a stay-at-home mom, but right now she's working at a stupid job that nobody likes. I prefer her being home; it's nice knowing she'll always be there if I need her.

She has this "I don't care what you think about me" air about her. She's also the type that doesn't take crap from people. I've never seen anyone walk all over her. I think she's really strong, and she doesn't keep her opinion to herself unless it does way more harm than good. She defends her family and friends, and I admire her for that. Sometimes, I wish I was more like her. She told me that she used to be like me, so maybe I'll change, too.

She cares about her family, and she takes good care of us. She's the best cleaner I've ever seen, and I'm being taught in the art of Clean-Fu. If you have any questions about how to live on your own, or parent, or almost anything about life, Mom's a good person to go to. I know when I move out of the house for college, I'll probably call her every day with twenty questions.

Dad has brown hair, usually messed up, and blue eyes that I swear change color depending on what mood he's in. If he's happy, they're bright blue and kind of twinkle (though I'm not sure how he'd feel about me writing he has twinkling blue eyes). If he's mad, the most creative description I can think of is the ocean during a storm---dark, dangerous, intense. I prefer the twinkles.

My dad's a hard worker. Right now, he works for Big D, the construction company. He's in an office right now, but he used to be outside all the time building homes. I think he's one of the fastest framers. He's been building since...well, since he was younger. I can't remember the exact age. It's been a long time, and Dad's a professional now. He's great at working with his hands. Dad's actually the reason I got 100% on my physics project (build a machine with ten simple machines to light a match to light a candle. Ugh!). I'm so grateful he's handy. He's the Mr. Fix-It at home, along with Braden.

On top of being a handyman, Dad's a quality chef at home. Living with Mom and Dad has made me spoiled when it comes to food. I have yet to go to a restaurant that had better meals than my parents' cooking. I don't like restaurants as much as home. Dad also has a love of four wheeling in his early model bronco---an activity we haven't really had the chance to enjoy since moving from St. George---and bouldering. He's fun to hang around and usually has one or two jokes to crack us up. I can't keep a frown on my face when my dad's trying to cheer me up.

Braden Wade's about fourteen, and he behaves like a normal little brother. He's a pest, a goof ball, and really, really protective of me. Between my dad and my two little brothers, I doubt I can ever bring a boy home. I'm just kidding. But I'm serious. Anyway, he's got my dad's brown hair and crystal blue eyes. Naturally, being my father's son, he's also a lady's man. It's the Male Widdison Curse. Girls fall under their spell; the looks, the charm, the smooth way of flirting...yeah, the ladies don't have a chance.

He's good at working with his hands, like Pops. I say he's street smart, whereas I'm book smart. I could never take something apart and put it back together again like Braden could. Braden can't read a book like I can. Together, we're a genius.

Like a normal teenage boy, Braden enjoys playing video games, avoiding homework, and pretending he knows everything. He's amazing at the guitar; he's taught himself how to play several songs just by looking up the tabs online. He's pretty good in the kitchen. I love when he makes smoothies. I don't have to do it myself for one thing, and they taste good for another. He's a smart kid. He's a natural born leader, and I can tell he cares about others. Even when he's bugging Logan because he's bored.

Logan James is nine years old. He's got dirty blond hair, darker than mine. He's super skinny like I was when I was his age. I don't think he loves reading as much as I do, but he's got plenty of imagination. He makes up stories in his head and acts them out. He's funny, and I love listening to him tell me about things that aren't real, but he treats them like they are. He's a member of a secret pack of wolf-men who are trying to rid the world of the vampire menace. Shh. You didn't hear that from me.

The kid's brilliant. He just won the spelling bee in his class, and will be moving on to face the rest of the school on Wednesday. Guess what word earned him a spot in the school's spelling bee? Pterodactyl. I didn't even know how to spell pterodactyl until he told me he'd won. Nothing like making your seventeen year old sister feel bright, Logan.

While Braden is Dad's clone, I think Logan is Mom's. He has her temper. Whenever Braden picks on him, they end up getting in a fist fight. Logan doesn't let people push him around. And he defends his friends and family. You definitely don't want to get on his bad side. But he's sweet. He also has the Male Widdison Curse. Girls chase him all over the playground at school.

I love my family. We have our ups and downs, and we're all a little weird at times. Okay...we're a lot weird. But I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Even chocolate. And that's really saying something. :)

Dreams and Goals

Goals start out as dreams. If you don't write them down, they turn into wishes. And wishes are dreams you're not willing to work for. At least, that's how I see it in my mind.

I'm full of wishes and dreams. Whenever my birthday rolls around, I close my mind and think through every wish I've ever made before blowing out the candles. I wish I'd be more outgoing. I wish I could talk to guys, flirt with guys, have guys interested in me. I wish I could be bold enough to speak my mind all the time. That's the point of Think It, Ink It. There's no holding back. If a thought crosses my mind, I'm going to write it. Journals, even online ones, are paths to self discovery. Maybe by writing down my thoughts will help me get to know myself even better.

Anyway, back to the wish/dream/goal topic. I want my future to be bright, secure, and worth going through the present to get there. So, I have certain things I want out of life.

The thing I want more than anything else in the world is to be married to the right man in an LDS temple. It doesn't matter which temple, as long as I'm sealed to my husband for time and all eternity. If I can get to that point in my life, I'll be the happiest girl on Earth.

I want to be an English teacher. I want to teach any grade from junior high to high school. I haven't decided a specific grade yet, but I'm leaning more towards tenth grade. Maybe ninth. See? I'm indecisive. But I've already decided how to teach a few things. Grammar, every English student's nightmare, will hopefully be more fun to learn by using games and challenges. I don't hate grammar; I just haven't cheered inside every time my teacher tells us to open our Language books. Games can be a great way to learn. And writing. Not a whole lot of teenagers love writing. I'm going to enforce them to keep a writing journal---mwahaha! I have the power!---but I won't be grading it on spelling, grammar, and other boring junk. I'll just count the number of days they wrote in their journal and give them a score based on that. I won't read their entries. They can write anything; stories, poems, entries on their life. The goal is to get them to find their voice in writing. They can even write profanity, although I don't like those words. As long as they can find their voice and put emotion in what their writing, they can do anything in the world. I don't have to read it.

So other than being the funnest, greatest English teacher to ever bless the lives of students, I want to be a mom. I want at least five kids, but I'll be more than happy with less or more. If I am unable to have more, I'd seriously consider adopting. I might adopt at least one child anyways. It always makes me sad when I think about kids who don't have parents. I'd like to give them that chance, and let them feel loved and cared about. Obviously, I really want to make a difference in kids' lives.

I want to publish at least one of my books. "At least" are the key words. I would love to publish more than one. I've got eight novels in the works now, I think. I lose track of them all. I probably have more but eight was the first number that popped into my head. I get ideas for books every day. Some of them I know would be great topics, but others I chuck out because it's been done before or it's not that entertaining. I've definitely improved my writing skills. A few hours ago, I read over something I had written a couple years in the past and was horrified at how terrible it was. Thank goodness there's improvement.

I want to own the following dog breeds: a golden retriever, a Jack Russel terrier (name him Wishbone), a beagle, and another dachshund. I love dogs. Hopefully, my kids will love them, too. I want dogs that are great with children.

Another goal I have is to own a home with a big fenced yard and a tree for a swing. The house doesn't have to be massive; maybe two stories. I always thought it would be neat to live in an older modeled home, like a doll house or cottage. Cute houses look homey to me. I want a house that feels cozy and safe, a good place to raise a family. I want a big yard for my kids and the dogs to explore and play around in. I also want a hammock for the hubby and me to relax in while the kiddies run around. The only restrictions I have on the house are: 1. The neighbors need to be friendly. 2. I need to live somewhat close to my parents. 3. Ghosts, poltergeists, and other haunts are not allowed inside. If they need help passing on, that's great. I'm willing. But don't pop out at me while I'm showering or just waking up. They need to make an appointment and then knock before walking through doors or walls so I know not to scream. And the first one that possesses one of my kids is going to be thrown out on his transparent butt.

I have many other ambitions, but those are some main ones. Marriage, kids, career, dogs, and a house that isn't haunted...I like the sound of that.

Definition of Me

Ashton Rose Widdison---seventeen year old girl, junior at Syracuse High School, blond, five foot five, 118 pounds give or take, and the only daughter of three kids. I have two amazing parents, Daniel (Wade) and Sandra (Sandy). My little brothers are Braden and Logan. I live in a cozy home in Clinton, Utah, and though I've only been here over a year, I've enjoyed it.

Though I love to write, I've always had a hard time filling out journals. The lives of characters I make up are always more interesting than my life. But blogging sounded cool, so I thought I'd give it a try. So here's a few things to know about me:

• I am a writer, so, naturally, I live in many different worlds at once. If you leave me alone to my thoughts for even a minute, I'm gone and it takes a few tries to bring me back.
• If I have headphones on, it's best to leave me be. Music inspires me, and if I've got my eyes closed or have a far away look on my face, that means I'm having a vision. If you try to talk to me during this time, you won't be getting a response. Forgive me if I snap at you. I don't like being interrupted during a scene.
• I love kids. I want to have five of them (at least). I've already decided on a few names. Samuel Wade, Gracie, and Molly.
• I spend a lot of time reading books or thinking about books. I'm willing to read whatever anyone suggests.
• Despite the fact that I try to be calm, easy going, and nice, I sometimes get into fights with my two little brothers. Braden, who's about fourteen, likes to wrestle around. He thinks he's tough. He thinks he's able to beat me. He's usually wrong.
• I believe in ghosts. I believe in aliens (not the green guys who come to Earth in U.F.Os and try to destroy mankind. Although, that makes for an exciting story.). I believe in miracles, magic, and true love. I don't believe in love at first sight. I like romance, but I don't think you can fall in love with someone without knowing them. Shame on me.
• I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I want to meet a good guy, get married in any LDS temple, and have those five kids. If the guy doesn't like my names, I won't marry him. Simple as that.
• I think I'm funny. If you don't think I'm funny, that's your problem. I will admit I'm strange, and some of the things I say don't make sense, but overall I have a good sense of humor.
• I want to be an author, an English teacher, and a mom. And a psychiatrist. But not a professional one. I mean more like Lucy off of the Peanuts. She sets up a lemonade-type stand and charges $.05 for every visit Charlie Brown and others makes. I could do that. I'm willing to listen to everyone's problems. I like giving advice. And hey, I'll be nice. You can keep that five cents.
• I talk too much sometimes. And I share too much about my life. My theory is if you don't want to know about what's going on in my universe, don't let me start talking. I care about other people's lives, don't get me wrong. But I want to talk about me, too.
• I don't have a favorite genre of music. I listen to everything almost. Except for rap. Rap is to music as etch-a-sketch is to art. My favorite bands include Evanescence, Lifehouse, Nirvana, and pretty much whatever I feel like listening to that day.
• I love movies. Action movies, comedy movies, and the occasional romance. My favorite is when they include all three. The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Never Been Kissed, The Martian Child, Finding Neverland, and Transformers are among my favorites.
• I can be a different person depending on how I feel. I can be quiet and keep to myself, I can be moody and snap at everybody, or I can be annoying and goofy.
• I'm a dog person. I don't hate cats, but I love dogs more.
• My favorite color is blue.

Those are a few things to know about me. All in all, I like who I am. I hope that I can do better with this blog than with the other journals I've tried to write. Good luck to me.