When Shoplifting Is Encouraged

Part of the reason, I think, that it takes me so long to rewrite something is because when I write it, I only write the story. Here's the hors d'oeuvre, maybe something light to keep things going, try this meat and before you finish it there are vegetables of course, are you ready for something hot and sweet as a desert? There, wasn't that a good meal? What else could you want?

Oh, that's right. I need to put all of that in dishes before I serve it. Those clothes weren't expensive, were they?

I tend to not make an outline of a story until I'm either done or almost done, and even then I only make it to get all the time-lines straight and make sure I haven't had someone die before they do a chain-saw ballet. Maybe at one point I'll try outlining something before writing it, but sitting here writing this, just the thought of deciding how a story is going to develop more than two or three points ahead of time feels like getting locked into a box and mailed to France, but for real. I can feel a small space getting smaller with me in it, being dragged and shoved to someplace foreign where I don't know the language or the people. If someone forgets to put the right stamps on my box, I'll end up collecting dust in a corner of an empty building.

You see, the unknown is part of the fun. As I write, I may have some idea of where I want to end up, but it's only an idea. Half the time I get there, half the time I discover someplace better to be, and the third half of the time I find out the spot I once had in mind was never there in the first place and I have to plan the trip all over again. It's a journey, one I enjoy taking and inviting you along for the company. In real life I try to plan trips ahead of time, because I don't like getting lost. When I write, I love getting lost.

So when I'm done with the first draft of a story, or even better, a book, it's got no dish to sit in. It's a big pile of meats, vegetables, and scoops of ice cream, sitting together on the table. I've taken a fun journey, but I've also made a mess. The food needs dishes, and my story needs a world, a time, someplace to happen where the people and events can stand out from all the background. It needs all the things that it isn't, so we can clearly see what it is.

This is where shoplifting comes in handy. The person next to me at that inconvenient red light has no idea my story even exists, nor do the three women ahead of me in line at the restaurant I once ate at, nor do all the people who post remarks online on the websites that I get my news from. All of these people drive, walk, make conversation to pass the time, and scratch the backs of their ears when they have an itch. They have jobs, pasts, love lives, and their own outlooks on life and death. Their minds are as filled as yours or mine, and everything they do puts those minds on display. All you have to do is open your eyes and ears to catch those tidbits that are useful.

Now there is a line between picking up useful tidbits like how those ladies refer to their medications, and violating someone's personal space. When I shoplift words, phrases, or mannerisms from people I do it hit and run style, and I do it in public where I reduce my chance of getting sued. If you do it some other way you might just find out what the stalking laws in your area are like. Remember, you're not the one who decides when you're too close, the other person is, and they might be toting mace or a pistol.

(Oh, and if I get a call from your lawyer, asking me to appear as a witness for you? I'm deleting this post, and when I call him back I'll pretend I only speak Russian. Привет !)

Remember, the point is to add to the story.

The point is to write.