PERHAPS THE QUESTION authors are asked most frequently is "Where do you get your ideas?"
The most honest answer I can give is, "Beats me."
When you're in school, teachers give assignments. They say: "Write about what you did on your summer vacation." Or, "Write a paper told from the viewpoint of your favorite vegetable." Some of the assignments are fun, and some are a burden. The good news is that when you're an author, there's no teacher to tell you your assignment. But the bad news is that when you're an author, there's no teacher to tell you your assignment. With the whole world to choose from, where does one begin?
So here's the second-most-honest answer I can give: Ideas are in the air all around us, and sometimes—when we're lucky—an idea comes along and smacks a writer on the side of the head and says, "Pay attention."
CURSES, INC.
This story is the result of being nearsighted.
I was in a restaurant that has a bulletin board where people can stick their business cards. As I was walking by, I saw a card that—at first glance—I thought said CURSES, INC. I went back for a second look and saw that what it actually said was CRUISES, INC. But I thought "Curses, Inc." was an intriguing business concept, not to mention a great title. With a title like that, of course I had to write about a modern witch, and what's more modern than computers and selling spells over the World Wide Web?
SKIN DEEP
"Skin Deep" came about because of a lunchtime conversation with some friends who are also writers.
One of the women, whom I had only known for two or three years, talked about being born with a birthmark on her face. She described being tormented by children, just as Ardda is in my story. Only recently had new developments in laser surgery allowed the birthmark to be removed. My friend said that this had changed her entire self-perception and—therefore—her life.
Talk about an idea smacking a particular writer on the side of the head: In this case, there were at least eight of us writers at that table, and—as far as I know—I'm the only one who came away with more than lunch. Perhaps this idea chose me because it knew I would be sympathetic, since I'd always felt like the ugly duckling who—instead of growing into a beautiful swan—grows into just another duck. I've always had mixed feelings about "The Ugly Duckling": I'm happy he's happy at the end—but, boy, do those other ducks get on my nerves.
PAST SUNSET
This was the first of the stories I wrote for this collection.
The idea started with a Halloween decoration a friend had draped over her doorway. From the street it appeared to be a beautiful lady dressed in white, almost like an angel guarding the door. But the closer I came, the spookier the face got.
I set the story in France, which is where my mother comes from. Parts of France are as modem as anything in the United States. But every once in a while you turn a corner and find yourself in an old section that looks even today pretty much as I've described it, as though nothing has changed in hundreds of years.
"Past Sunset" was originally published in Bruce Coville's Book of Spine Tinglers.
TO CONVERSE WITH THE DUMB BEASTS
We have a cat. Many of our friends have dogs. For anyone who's ever honestly tried to guess what his or her pet is thinking, I need say no more.
BOY WITCH
After I'd written all the other stories for this collection, my editor, Jane Yolen, pointed out that I had all kinds of witches—good-hearted, evil, beautiful, ugly, from several times past, and from today—but I didn't have one who was a boy.
I had a hard time with that. Though I know that during witch trials in Europe and North America, men as well as women were accused of and executed for being witches, I had a gender bias that made me think of witches as female. For two months I mumbled and complained and tried to come up with an idea that would fit a boy witch. Nothing. Finally I mentioned the problem to a friend. She didn't even need to pause to consider. "Why don't you write about a boy who's trying to be a witch, and his spells don't work?" she suggested—proving, once again, how story ideas can hit different people at random.
I started thinking how boys and men have a reputation for jumping into projects without reading the directions first, and there was my story.
Since Jane is responsible for "Boy Witch," I considered naming the girl who comes looking for a spell "Jane." But poor Emma goes through so much, I decided not to try Jane's sense of humor. (And the friend who gave me the idea wants you to know she isn't Emma, either; her name is Mary.)
LOST SOUL
This is the only story that wasn't written with this collection in mind.
Several years ago a friend wrote a story about a kelpie—a sea sprite who lures men to their deaths and sucks their souls. His story was a haunting tale about a kelpie who fought very hard against her nature, wanting to become human and never again harm anyone. It was a beautiful story, but it got me interested in writing about a kelpie who is very pleased with what she is.
I also struggled with the concept of losing one's soul, and I decided it meant acting in a way totally alien to one's nature—the way someone wholly lost to an obsession might.
"Lost Soul" was originally published in A Wizard's Dozen.
This was one of the later stories I wrote for this collection.
I had already written "Past Sunset" in the first person (the story told by "I" rather than "he" or "she"), and I was concerned that this made it stick out too much and not fit in with the others. I needed another first-person story. Where "Past Sunset" is told by a narrator—Marianne—remembering what happened in her past, I decided that "Remember Me" should be written in present tense because the narrator has no past. I pictured him, standing confused on the road, and the whole story of why he had no past, and what would happen to him while he tried to find out who he was, and how the story would end—all this came to me in less time than it's just taken to describe it. All I had to do was type it, making this the easiest of these stories to write.
WITCH-HUNT
I wrote this for an anthology that was looking for "nightmare" stories. Editor Michael Stearns selected "Cypress Swamp Granny" instead, but I think "Witch-Hunt" is scarier. I think it's the scariest story I've ever written, because it's the most likely to come true.
I intentionally tried to mislead readers into believing that the story is set in a different place and time, to put a safe distance between you and Lyssa.
Until the end, of course. By then, you realize that—by reading this book—you're exactly the same kind of person as Lyssa. Better luck to you.
CYPRESS SWAMP GRANNY
Most of my stories start with an idea for the plot, or the characters, or some sort of central theme. This one started with the place.
About fifteen years before I wrote this, my husband and I visited New Orleans. While he was kept busy going to business meetings all day, I got to do tourist-type things: a trip down the Mississippi in a paddle-wheel boat, touring plantations, and walking in the city. Someday, I thought, I'll have to write a story set here.
As I said, that was fifteen years ago, which just goes to show that I can't be rushed.
"Cypress Swamp Granny" first appeared in A Nightmare's Dozen.
THE WITCH'S SON
This story started out with a moral dilemma, rather than with a situation or characters.
The law says a person may kill in self-defense—that is, if one's life is threatened. I started wondering about this in a fantasy context: If it's all right to kill to save a life, is it all right to kill to regain a life?
Obviously the ending of "The Witch's Son" wouldn't work in a modern setting: Today, if Hugh Brewster returned to life after an absence of fourteen years, he'd run into all sorts of complications with birth and death records, Geraldo Rivera hounding him for an interview, and enough money owed in back taxes to make him wonder if it was all worth it.
Story ideas surround us, like a roomful of strangers at a party. Potentially, there are more possibilities than we could ever manage. But there are certain ones that don't interest us at all (like the kid who wants to tell you all about this science fair project on cats' hairballs), and there are others about which we instantly say to ourselves, "That one looks fun." Sometimes an idea—like a friendship—can seem interesting and full of possibilities at first, but the relationship doesn't go anywhere and eventually fizzles out. Sometimes an idea seeks us out and demands our attention and won't go away, and eventually we say, "All right. This might work out after all." And sometimes a project is like a blind date, like an editor saying, "I know what you can do. How about some nice author notes—"