Where Do You Get Your Ideas From?

Every writer, in every genre, in damn near every interview gets asked this question. Whenever someone introduces us as a writer at work, at parties, at just about any social gathering, this question is almost inevitable, and we all cringe when we hear it. Not because the question is rude or insulting or absurd (though it is a little) but because it's the obvious question, and we are tired of hearing it and even more tired of answering it. It's like being the tallest guy in the room and being constantly asked if you play basketball (another question I despise). But, in the vain hope that I will never be asked this question again, I will answer it for you now. I get my Ideas from living.

I used to get my ideas from arguments, and that's still occasionally true. I get my ideas from disagreements, and frustrations, and things that piss me off. I get them from listening to other people's stories (especially the tragic ones.) I get them from the news, from history books and documentaries, from reading science and psychology magazines, from reading the biographies and autobiographies of extraordinary people, but most of all I get them from living. The more experiences I have, the more I have to write about.

I am of the opinion that writers – all artists in fact – should lead extraordinary lives. But, there is art in the ordinary. There is poetry in the mundane. You don't need to climb Mount Kilimanjaro to create art. You don't have to go dancing in jazz clubs in Paris or snorkeling off the beach in Brazil to have an experience worth preserving and savoring, to be inspired to create something wonderous.

Turning our common shared experiences into art can be both beautiful and enlightening. The most important thing is to live those moments fully and examine them, find the beauty in them, and the lesson to be learned from them. What did these experiences teach us about ourselves and the world that may make it valuable to an audience? To a reader, listener, or viewer? What might it teach them about life? What revelation is to be unveiled? To me, that is the question every writer, every artist should ask before they begin to create. And it doesn't have to be something grand or monumental. That's what I have learned as I have gotten older and wiser. The simplest things can be revelatory. An unexpected flavor or scent. An everyday sight seen from a new angle. A simple pleasure newly discovered or a common occurrence you have just seen the horror in. Art is everywhere.

We may all live in the same neighborhood and come from the same culture, but we will never view the same experiences the same way. We may be involved in an identical incident yet not take the same lesson from it as the next person, and therein lay the art of it. By bringing our own unique perspective on the world to our creations we elevate them and make them unique and beautiful. Even siblings who grew up in the same household, same parents, same culture, same economic situation, are affected by their situation and environment in very different ways. To put a rather dramatic point upon it, one sibling is abused and is determined to never treat anyone the way they were treated, to be a better parent than the ones they had. The other sibling grows up to be an abuser, inflicting upon others exactly what was inflicted upon them.

I grew up on Ambrose Street, in the Germantown section of Philadelphia, and I guarantee no one else who grew up on that same block at that same exact time, experienced it the same way I did. I am definitely the only horror author to emerge from that particular piece of real estate.

Capturing the ordinary lives of ordinary people almost makes the artist a historian. And, what may be ordinary to those of us who live those lives everyday might be extraordinary to people from other places or times. Seeing our own daily lives, our obstacles and struggles, our joys and triumphs reflected in a work of art is validating. It makes us feel seen and understood. There is great value in that. Art is easier to understand and relate to when it is about the familiar. 

Every moment we live is a story, a poem, potentially an entire novel waiting to be authored. My life has been – colorful – to put it mildly. From that little neighborhood in northwest Philadelphia in the 1970s and 1980s, to Los Angeles to San Francisco and then Las Vegas in the 1990s and 2000s, to Texas, and now Thailand, I have done a whole lot of living. I have been a bouncer, a security guard, a bodyguard, a nightclub and concert promoter, a model, an actor, a professional fighter, a construction worker, a Horror author, and a dozen other things in between. I have run marathons, fought for world titles, acted in movies, modeled on runways, done spoken word poetry, comedy, and performance art, run a convention, traveled to Mexico, Jamaica, Japan, China, UK, Thailand, Vietnam, Germany, and the Philippines, written novels, rafted through caves, hiked up mountains, and lounged on beaches on several different continents. I have been to swingers clubs, BDSM clubs, and sex parties, run a dungeon, and won a Leather title. I have lived. But still, to this day, most of my inspiration comes from where I grew up. From Ambrose Street. From Germantown, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, or G-Town as you may have heard me refer to it in many of my stories. 

So, when you ask me where my ideas come from, what else could I possibly say? They come from all of that. They come from 55 years of joy and pain. They come from experiencing, and watching, listening to, and reading about the experiences of others. My ideas come from living.