Inspiration can come at the most unexpected times—visiting a lovely, historic place, as the posts this week have demonstrated; seeing a movie with a particularly attractive (some would say hunky) man; reading a book, even if it’s not a romance (man, the ideas I’ve gotten from Dashiell Hammett’s Maltese Falcon. No, just kidding.)
Chances are, each writer’s inspiration is idiosyncratic, speaking to our most primal thoughts and images. For example, I like visiting a nice historic site, but I don’t think I’d get inspired to write because of it, even if I went to Gretna Green, found a blacksmith, and did that whole anvil thing. All five of my fellow bloggers have posted about places they found inspiring.
Me, I’d probably just look around a little and then go find where they sell the coffee.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy visiting historic places, I do; but I don’t feel my writer’s soul quiver when I’m there. For inspiration, I reach back into what I first loved about Happily Ever After stories and come up with two main sources:
A friend of my mother’s gave me The Green Fairy Book when I was born (I’m certain my parents would have preferred burp cloths, but there you go). Needless to say, it took me a couple of years after that to actually read it. And when I did, my romantic streak was born. Andrew Lang collected and compiled fairy stories from all over the world, from Europe to Africa to Asia. His translations, accompanied by H.J. Ford’s amazing art, defined, and continues to define, romance for me.
There are twelve colored fairy books in all, and I would say I’ve read them all close to a hundred times each. When my copies got too worn out and mildewed, my husband replaced them as a birthday present (and this was before the internet made thoughtful shopping so easy).
Also when I was little, my parents and I lived in New Hampshire (stick with me, I am going somewhere). Since both of them worked, I went to a neighbor’s house after school to play with her daughter and her friend’s two daughters. My babysitter was Trina Schart Hyman, a multiple Caldecott Honor Award winning illustrator. Trina’s artwork featured beautiful, independent women with long, wild hair and handsome, honorable men doing noble deeds (it also featured a guy who looked suspiciously like my dad, Trina’s martini-drinking buddy. I always got the olives.).
I read, and re-read, and re-read these stories hundreds of times. I imagined myself disguised as a boy and rescuing a prince from a dragon. I imagined myself sleeping for twenty years and being awoken by a prince. I imagined myself watching as a prince completed an impossible task set him by my father (notice the plethora of princes?) . Of course, I imagined myself as beautiful, graceful and quick-witted as these heroines, too, even though I was a chubby glasses-wearing asthmatic (I’m not chubby anymore, but don’t ever put my glasses near your cat).
And when it came time to write, I didn’t even give it a second thought. I would write a romance, a story where I knew the ending was going to be happy. Those are the stories, and images, that make me happy. That inspire me.
oh gosh, I love Trina’s work, Megan. I used to wish I could be one of those wonderful women with the bony feet and long tangled hair when I was organizing the children’s section at Modern Times. Lucky you. Wow.
I think I’ll revisit the section and see if there are any recent ones. What a cool inspiration (and of course the rainbow of Andrew Lang fairy books).
Your babysitter was Trina Schart Hyman??!!! Wow! No wonder you ended up a writer — you must have grown up knowing that real people can do these things — write and illustrate books, and all that. Wow.
I think I once had a babysitter who’d read a book. 🙂
Cara
Megan, I loved those Andrew Lang fairy tale books. Now that you remind me of them I must start collecting them for my daughters!
I was lucky–in addition to Trina, I had parents who read as voraciously as I do, and somehow had collected a bunch of Georgette Heyers, which I first read when I was about 11 (that was after my Barbara Cartland phase which lasted for a long, long time). And my dad was a journalist for his working career, and is now a curious bibliophile, so I think it’s all in the genes.
My mom read Louisa May Alcott to me from age 7 until I was able to read it on my own. And insisted on taking me to see The Red Shoes around that time too. (I guess it was sort of like our taking our 10-year-old — a zillion years ago when he was 10 — to see Citizen Kane. When Kane dies, intoning “Rosebud,” Jesse leaned over to me and whispered, “it’s the sled, right?” and was very surprised later when I told him you weren’t supposed to get that). I know this is very Off Topic, but you can’t stop a kvelling mom.
Pam
This is a great story, Megan, and I’m so glad you shared it with us! It must have been wonderful to grow up surrounded by so much creativity. My babysitters always thought I was a weird child because I would rather stay in my room and read than go play with the girl down the street. But hey, she always just wanted to play house, and there was nothing more boring to me then than cooking plastic food on a plastic stove and changing a doll’s diapers! 🙂
I also adore the “Fairy” books, those wild heroines and the fabulous plots. I’m glad I got to revisit that here.