How Blue is Blue?

How green is green?

What color is your world today?

I'm serious. Go, right now, look out the window. Pick a color, any color. The Boy and I have an ongoing argument about how to pronounce cerulean. (Say it with me - [sa-roo'-li-an] - that's from Webster's.) Your sky could be gray today. It could be pink and orange (sunrise, people).

It doesn't matter what colors you choose. The point is, it's COLOR. God's very own finger-painting set.

The forecast for our area today is mostly sunny, high 81. I tried to find a cloud on my walk this morning. Really, I did try. There weren't any. And we've had our fair share of rain lately, so all the lawns in our neighborhood are the greenest of greens.

So, what are your colors today?

Inspiration on the first lap: Yesterday, Jeff Cohen over at Murderati had this to say about The Question (Where do you get your ideas?) [in part]: "I don't always know the genesis of my story ideas. Sometimes, they just sort of happen when I'm not trying to think about such things, like in the shower ..."

I'm with Jeff on this one, except that on the walk mentioned above I couldn't help but be inspired by all the wonderful color and bright air and sunshine and expanse of blue sky and green grass. So the thoughts and direction for today's post were tumbling around in my head. The problem is, I have short-term memory issues. Nothing worse than being a writer with short-term memory dysfunction. So I'm halfway around the subdivision, chanting things like "how blue is blue, how green is green, what color is your world today" over and over so I wouldn't forget. I finally decided the neighbors might call the men in the little white coats to come get me, so I popped back in the house on my way by for my handy-dandy notebook so I could jot down some things while I was completing lap two.

The Baseball. On my way around the loop this morning I noticed a pristinely white baseball lying in the grass beside the road. It took a tremendous amount of self-restraint on my part to not pick up the baseball and throw it. It wasn't really in anyone's yard, you see, and there are about five or six houses on that side of the subdivision that it could have come from. I would have been left with the question, "Which yard do I choose?" And then, what if I chose the wrong one?

Do you see where I'm going with this? It's a writer's job to ask what if? That's the answer to Jeff's question in the simplest terms. Where do writers get their ideas? By asking, "What if ...?" You can look at any scene, any circumstance, a picture, a blue sky, ask a what if? question and have an entire story gel in your head.

It's days like today that you want to make up excuses to be outside. On my first lap this morning I passed a yard crew. Three guys, one truck, lots of lawn care equipment. One guy mows while one weed-eats and the other trims hedges. It's an efficient operation. By the time I crested the hill on my second lap, they were already heading out to service their next client. As I passed by on that first lap, Mr. Weed-Eater was pulling his tools off the truck. I commented that they probably loved their jobs on a day like today. He responded with a thoroughly Southern "Yes, ma'am."

The Femmes Fatales are one of my daily reads. Yesterday Charlaine Harris pointed out that she couldn't have her desk facing the window in her new office (her reasoning being she'd worked for years in a "closet" and couldn't get used to being able to see out the window - at least, that's how I read it). I have the same problem, although not for the same reason. My study window is opposite my door, and I would have two major problems if my desk were in front of the window. One, I can't stand having my back to the door (don't like people sneaking up on me), and two, I'd be too busy watching the world outside to write.

If it's a beautiful day where you are, too, then make up an excuse to be outside. Take a book out on the deck and read. Take a walk. Go play with the dog. Just be sure to notice what color the sky is.

=) JB