Sitting at my desk yesterday I conjured up an excellent idea, or series of ideas for a novel. Well, ultimately, it could be a series of novels all interrelated but standing on their own. While I won’t divulge the topic (just in case you more talented writers with more desire to put pen to paper than I have right now take them and create a better vision than mine) I will say that the premise of them excites me and they would be something I would like to read – let alone write. But with all of my good ideas, there have been two at last count, the seeds of an overactive imagination creep in. 

The first thought that jiggled about in my mind like Pamela Anderson running down a beach in an iconic red swimsuit – and how sad is it that most men near my age will struggle to remember their favorite book of the 90s but remember that damn swimsuit? Oh well, back on topic. The first thought I had is “wait, this can’t be an original idea. There’s no way you’d think of something that cool!” Well, I did think of it, but my next few days will be spent scouring the Internet to see just how original my idea is and if it isn’t entirely original, how different it is from the others. I suppose this is a natural concern. 

Unfortunately, my next thought is straight out of leftfield and onto the glamorous red carpets of Hollywood. For some reason, whenever I start trying to formulate an idea, my mind swirls to the Silver Screen. I’m a very visual person, I would rather lose my hearing than go blind, and seeing something on celluloid appeals to me. I’m currently re-reading The Lord of the Rings, and while I love the book, at several times during the process I’ve wanted nothing more than to put the movie instead.  

When I was writing my as of yet unpublished children’s novel Aaric, I changed the descriptions of three central characters to look more like actors I would love to play them if they made the book into a movie. Yeah, I know, I’ve always suffered delusions of grandeur. But hey, if it was your story being made into a movie wouldn’t you want to see actors you liked in the roles you created rather than someone you can’t stand? And what if the actor isn’t right for the part (even though he’ll probably sell tickets)? I didn’t think Tom Hanks was right for the role of Robert Langdon in the film version of The DaVinci Code. And he definitely didn’t have any chemistry with Audrey Tatou, the female lead. Sure, it wasn’t as bad as Matthew Broderick’s ill-fated turn at the dramatic in Glory, an otherwise great film about the civil war, but it was bad. I like my Tom Hanks funny. When I like him at all.  

So my mind races ahead to the movie version all the time. I might as well start by writing a damn screenplay for all the casting couch sessions I’m conducting in my head. I took a screenwriting class; I know the format and the layout (that doesn’t mean I can write one – I only know the layout to use). And who cares if the actors I’m planning on playing the roles might not be adequate when the damn thing is made into a movie. It could take years, and we all know what years do in Hollywood – limit your chances at strong leading roles. But, again, I digress. 

I think I’ll slow down the idea and concentrate on finding out how saturated the market is with books like the one I’m planning. That would probably be the best step. After that, hopefully, I’ll be spending some quiet time fleshing out characters, mapping out scenes, and ultimately doing the stuff I don’t usually like doing before I actually sit down and write my next as of yet unpublished novel. Although I can plainly see pretty much the whole story, including the ending, it’s time I concentrate on the little but important things that separate good writers from writers like me. Now to keep my fingers crossed and hope for a gap in the market.