Random Ramblings : Inspiration

Sometimes inspiration can come from the strangest places, and it can happen anytime, anywhere.

For some writers, they need a muse, a person who reveals some insight or other into life’s little ironies, and this is then how they develop the storyline of their book. For others it comes from situations they encounter or strangers they happen to meet. In any case, you can tell a true writer because they carry a little notebook with them always, to jot these little things down. Collect enough of them, and of enough interest and you have the makings of a novel. The author of James Bond, Ian Fleming has some well known note books, and on the last page of the last one were the simple words “Quantum of Solace” with no description or thoughts to go with it. This clearly attracted the attention of the current Bond-film writer as it lent itself to the name of the last film released.

Recently I accepted some gardening work in order to tide me over financially while writing this book, and I had several strange encounters that immediately replayed themselves in my mind as a scene in the book. For example, the neighbour was walking through their garden with a log over his shoulder and a big smile on his face. This immediately became Berend the mute Berserker when they first arrive in Vinland, and are working to build houses. The warrior becomes the builder, just how would this affect his mindset? Would he accept such work? Would he enjoy it? Is this a gentle side one doesn’t see of the man until this moment? It could be rather effective in rounding out his personality.

Soon after this I was clearing a patch of stinging nettles and brambles (nasty area!). I stripped some thorns from a bramble branch and began to use it like a sword to clip the tops of the nettles. Now this sprig is very whippy, and there is already a character in the book who is a cruel little git, and who carries a whip around with him. Now imagine they were in Vinland already and under attack by natives, I could certainly see him using a thorn branch as a weapon. The whipping traits of it suit his experience nicely, and is made all the more cruel by the many long barbs that line the stem. 

While slashing away I realised this is just the kind of thing I enjoyed doing when I was younger (hitting stringing nettles that is, not slashing people with thorns) and it made me think... I am 25 and doing this, I could well imagine a young Viking doing this, perhaps even one of the chiefs or princes in a moment of relaxation from their heavy responsibilities. It makes them very human I think.