Crazy Idea Number One Blog Post Best!

Thanks to my new best friends @ Speculative Fiction Showcase for allowing me to do a guest blog post! This one is about where all those crazy ideas come from!


Hey, gang, some guy named Travis here. I’ve been allowed, by both the nice persons who run this site, as well as my lawyer, agent, and rabbi, to do a guest blog. Today we’re going to talk about something that a lot of authors seem to hate, which is “where do you get your ideas from?” Now, I’m not sure why authors hate this question so much, as I happen to think it is the absolute best question anyone could ever ask me. Even if they are the 3(324.36 ×10²⁴)⁴ person in the last seven minutes to ask that particular question. Because every time someone asks it, I always seem to have a different answer.

Before we talk about where weirdo ideas come from, let’s explore why authors hate this question so much.

Because some jerk inevitably asks if an author wants to hear his jerk idea and whether or not its a good idea and if it is a good idea can you write it and split the profits with me?

Okay, that run-on sentence was on purpose, because I’ve actually heard this question asked to both myself and to “real” authors (aka Authors Who Make Enough Money To Have Me Shipped To The Moon On A Space-X Cargo Rocket). And when you hear it, it’s said exactly as I wrote it—one long run-on sentence in a single breath. Depending on how introverted or shy the questioner is can also raise and lower the pitch of the question in ways that I cannot describe in less than 500 words. But I’m sure you can imagine how it sounds if you think about a 15 year old kid at a con who has a death-grip on the mic because suddenly his great idea of getting picked to ask a question in a room with 7 writers and 500 fans/readers wasn’t all that great of an idea after all. Continue reading

I Love Dreary Ol’ Seattle

I love Seattle. I love the whole area. And I love Portland, Oregon as well. I love the weather in the wintertime in Seattle. I cannot say I am truly fond of the summertime weather though.

Last time we visited, two or three years ago (I’m really bad with dates/times, as my wife will tell you while standing over my unconscious body with a frying pan in her hand), it was the beginning of July. I took only shorts and t-shirts, thinking I would be fine. It was July. Boise was sitting at about 100F for two weeks already.

I nearly froze to death. It was miserable, and I was cold the whole time. Not this year. This year we packed double, because you have to have shorts and t-shirts for the nice days, and pants and long sleeves and hoodies for the majority of the days. I have no doubt no matter how I dress, the locals will nudge each other in the ribs and whisper whatever their derogatory term is for tourists whenever they see me. I will gladly accept this, because it is true.

This year I think we’ll spend a few days in Bellevue, then head to the capitol. Since Carly is a history/geography/government teacher, she wants to go to Olympia. From there we might drive down I-5 until we get to Portland. I REALLY want to go to Powell’s Books again. I could camp out in there for three days and be the happiest human on earth (until they caught me and had me arrested, though they might feel bad that a human has no life to the point they’d hide in a bookstore until after closing just to read books…seriously, if you haven’t been to Powell’s Books, you must go.)

To make a short story long, goodbye Boise, hello Seattle and rain. I bet I end up writing a really depressing story about suicide. I don’t mean that in a jokey or glib fashion either. As much as I love Seattle, it makes me write very depressing stories. I’m not sure how artistic people can live there full time.

But I’d sure love to find out one day 😉