Where Do My Quare Ideas Come From?
Someone asked me the other day where I get my quare ideas for my posts.
Now, I wish I could tell you there was some grand, mystical process. I sit in a candlelit room, summoning the muses while wearing a flowing robe, and they whisper inspiration into my ear. Or that I’m part of a secret society of creative geniuses meeting at midnight under the full moon, passing around biscuits and forbidden wisdom.
But the truth?
Half the time, I have no clue.
Sometimes, it’s a conversation that takes an unexpected turn. You know the sort, one minute you’re talking about the weather, the next you’re deep into whether sheep have a social hierarchy and if that’s why one of them gave you side-eye in the field.
Sometimes it’s something I see while I’m out, a sign that says exactly the wrong thing in exactly the right way, or a man in a hi-vis jacket having a full argument with a traffic cone. These moments are gifts, and I hoard them like a magpie with shiny things.
Other times, I wake up with a fully formed idea in my head, like my brain’s been working the night shift without telling me. It’s not even polite about it, no warning, just bam, here’s an idea, now hurry up before it flies away.
And then there are the dreams. Not the sensible kind either, no winning-the-lottery dreams here. I’m talking about chasing a giant butterfly through Lidl while my old schoolteacher shouts prices at me. Somehow, my brain wakes up, sifts through that nonsense, and decides, Yes, that’s today’s post.
The thing is, ideas come when they feel like it. They just appear, like a neighbor who pops in unannounced, plonks themselves down at your kitchen table, and starts telling you a story whether you’ve made tea or not.
And me? I just write them down before they escape again.
Some days the ideas arrive dressed to impress, all polished and ready to go. Other days, they shuffle in wearing pajamas, hair sticking out at all angles, and muttering, “You’ll have to fix me up yourself.” But I love them all, the weird, the random, the half-formed.
Because here’s the thing: the joy isn’t in knowing where they come from. It’s in seeing where they’ll take me.
And if you still want to know where my ideas come from… well, pull up a chair and keep your eyes open, you might just be the next one.
Mae 🧡
About the Author…
Mae is a collector of random thoughts, strange sightings, and conversations that start off normal but end up somewhere entirely different. She writes them down before they escape, usually while drinking tea she had forgotten she made. When she’s not writing, she can be found watching the weather, talking to her dog, or wondering why people leave traffic cones in odd places.
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
Leave a reply to missparker0106 Cancel reply