I've started the process of moving - first post is up.

I'm going to expand and transition this journal to here. More news within the month.

The ancient home stood against centuries of wind, but then…

The crack was no bigger than a fingernail. Yet she slipped down it, and she…

The best option was to fly straight out the window, just spread her wings and go. She…

I was digitized, and…

She knew it must be morning, but outside the window, the sky was dark. She started to rise...

I stepped onto the ground, and the chill stabbed....

I’m stealing this idea from my kids. During their annual vacation with old friends, in a lakeside cabin without electricity, they tend to play many games. And one they played this year essentially required them to invent an Only-Average-Superhero. For example, a superhero who isn’t actually invisible: he’s translucent. Or a superhero who can only hover vertically 4 feet above the ground. Or a superhero who can fly as fast as a station wagon, but not as fast as a plane.

So, I set you this task - Invent your own Only-Average-Superhero and write a story in which he saves, maybe not the world, but at least his small town or neighborhood block.

Imagine your favorite teacher has a secret identity. Start a story in which you discover his/her secret identity.

That first day. You don’t know anyone, and no one knows you. It’s a chance to make a fresh start. Or perhaps it’s a challenge: you must find a new set of cronies, partners in crime, among a crowd of strangers.

Currently, Harry Potter probably has the most famous first day of school. He learns about chocolate frogs and spells and prejudice in the wizarding community. He also gets sorted, as he wishes desperately not to end up in Slytherin. He is suddenly transformed from the boy living under the stairs to the famous survivor of a dastardly attack: a boy with an archenemy.

In honor of school starting up - think about your main character’s first day at a new school. Maybe she’s moved, or she’s headed off to college. Maybe she’s recently discovered a power or talent that’s allowed her to attend a special school. Maybe she’s lost her ability to use a power or talent, and she has to go to a ‘normal’ school for the first time ever. What does she do as she walks into that classroom with a bunch of strangers? Write up that first…Terrifying? Terrible? Fantastic?…moment.

Torrents from the sky. Too much and too many to be caused by anything other than…

Super-power? No way, this was no super-power. It was…

I’ve been reading Margo Lanagan’s Red Spikes, and one of the things I’ve been thinking about is uniqueness. Blurbs on books often say things like, “the next Harry Potter.” Or, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Twilight.” Yet when I read Margo Lanagan, I never think “this is the next” or “this is Something meets Something.” I think, how did she come up with this?

Not everyone enjoys such a reading experience. I’ve suggested Lanagan’s work to others who’ve later told me, “Different. Weird. I didn’t get it.” Sometimes this is a matter of taste. But sometimes I have to wonder if we’re all a little too obsessed with “the next” whatever and famous formula “meets” famous formula. Do original ideas come from formula meets formula?

What makes something original? Lanagan’s tales don’t take place in vaguely medieval worlds. Often their settings seem to be some kind of far away that dwells strictly in Lanagan’s head. Other times the worlds are like ours, but odd souls inhabit them, like guardian angel birds. Death, heaven, purgatory, and hell make regular appearances in this collection, though not the kind a reader would find in any scriptural text. The characters in “Under Hell, Over Heaven” seem enslaved in a bureaucratic nightmare, transporting souls to a glorious Heaven and Hell they feel intensely and momentarily when they near it. The rest of the time they trudge in gray forgetfulness. “Winkie” is a great and chilling twist on the nursery rhyme “Wee Willie Winkie.” I’ll never think of the rhyme the same way again. Lanagan’s stories aren’t strange for strange’s sake, though. In “Under Hell, Over Heaven” we see the go-between’s trap: always close to greatness, but rarely feeling it herself. “Wee Willie Winkie” shows a child a little neglected by busy parents, as well as the dangers that haunt the night.

What makes a story original? Perhaps simply its author’s determination not to write a tale the way it’s been written many times before.