Story-Stuck

It happens every once in a while. I get really stuck for an idea. For ANY idea. It happens with short stories all the time, but I can (usually) muscle through those. When I need to start thinking about a novel-length thesis, that's when the "stuck" is the worst.

I'm about a quarter through the writing MFA at Hamline. The last year is the thesis year, and this coming year is the one where I develop the sorts of ideas that will lead to said thesis.

"You'll come up with something," Zach says, and I believe him, of course. But with a partner whose confidence in me is stunning in its awesomeness, I begin to develop this sureness that every idea I have will be fabulous, and I start to pluck the lamest moments of my day to hold up to a "could this be a novel?" light. (That's like a black light, but for thesis-writing, not fluid-detecting.)

Examples.

I went to church with Z this morning, over at Hamline Methodist. We've been there twice now, and I think we both like it a lot. The pastor looks like a skinny Jason Statham. Bam. "Pastor-turned-sex traffic criminal fools his congregation and the police, but can he fool his obsessive-compulsive choir director?!"

We gave Pan, our hedgehog, a bath. Bam. "Baby hedgehog slips down the drain after a couple of distracted pet owners leave her in the bathtub. In a matter of weeks, the hedgehog has been exposed to all of the mutating chemicals the sewers have to offer, and she now wanders the streets of Falcon Heights, Minnesota with revenge on her mind."

I totally don't feel like getting up at 5:45 tomorrow morning for work. Bam. "Grad student questions futility of her working life, and opts to join a freak show. When it is clear that she doesn't have any especially freaky features, student bites a rabid bat and becomes Foamy McRodent, Flying Human Trapeze with a Contractable Disease."

In other words, this girl is stuck for ideas. But I'll get there.