Writing Inspiration

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Wait…you’re also a lyricist?

Your friendly neighborhood writer with the Prince symbol on his face.

Like a lot of creative people, I’m curious about varying mediums and challenging myself. Until recently, I hadn’t shared the lyrical side of my repertoire, but yeah, I’ve written a few songs. It has always been about entertaining myself, exploring other kinds of writing, and keeping my skills sharp.

Genres include hip hop in the style of Prince’s 90s NPG era, hardcore punk, and country. All of that is going to be a surprise to people who know me.

Wanting to focus more on my novels, I hadn’t been putting effort into doing more with my lyrics nor have I spent much free time working on them. Writing is a job, after all, and you want to put the most time into the most viable projects. Suddenly, however, maybe I did.

As I’ve written recently in Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate, Sharing is caring…and inspiring, and Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt, I’ve unexpectedly found myself as one half of a songwriting duo.

So I started writing more songs. A lot more. In the last six weeks, I’ve started 25, completing 10. My partner has written new music for at least four songs, though honestly, his feels like the more difficult and time-consuming part of the deal.

Already, we have 2 songs that I’m absolutely thrilled with, even if we’ve got some work to do. The musical arrangement took lyrics I was happy with and turned them into songs I think are really special: the sad, haunting Let Me Down Easy and the powerful love song Did You Run?

Here are the other eight I’ve submitted to him:

  • YOU’RE OTHER – hardcore punk song yelling at the bigots
  • The Coyotes Roam But They Ignore The Bones – folk song about 2 murdered girls hidden at a New Mexico ranch
  • Together and Apart – two people who stayed together longer than they should have
  • A Day Survived Is Yesterday – sometimes you just need to get through that dark day
  • I’m Leaving You Behind – a person leaves the love who’s using them
  • Unrequited – an infatuated person slowly comes to terms with their one-sided love
  • Black Dog, Cry – a take on the Beatles’ Black bird (yeah, I know) about a sleeping dog who wakes at the sound of an intruder and alerts her family to danger
  • The Garden Bloom – a person is emerging from the darkness of a breakup

Are all of them viable? Who can say! The wonderful thing about collaboration is sparking ideas in each other. As an example, the first music pass at Did You Run? transformed it from a song about a person lamenting a one-night stand to a duet about two people wishing they hadn’t gone their separate ways after meeting on their vacations. Creation is about possibilities, not about sticking to a destination before you know where you really need to go.

Even if all these songs end up falling short of our high standards, we’re on a journey of discovery and learning. And we’ve got plenty of other viable material to work with. Most importantly, we’re having fun collaborating and filling our spare time with something that delights our souls.

Good luck with your own creative endeavors!

–Mike

PS: I’ve added the lyrics work to my Progress Tracker, a calendar that captures changes I’m making to my various creative projects.

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt

“Mike, try to think of one of the most insane things that could happen…” the text conversation began.

Turns out, that’s EXACTLY the kind of writing prompt I LOVE. And even better, he didn’t want to share the experience until our next call.

“You should write a three paragraph story of what you think happened.”

It’s like someone gave him a manual for hacking my writer’s brain.

Front page of the Roswell Daily Record, reporting a UFO crash in 1947.

I replied that writing was the easy part, but expected I wouldn’t be anywhere near the mark for what actually happened. In much of my writing, I tend to drift into fantastical situations or absurdity, and I’m usually not interested in reining myself in.

I was waiting for the school bus, so I started telling myself a story similar to the 1947 Roswell UFO crash, but in his neighboring state instead of New Mexico. However, it immediately became clear that he was bursting to share, even if he was keeping the full story secret until we could talk.

“It involves death, prison, and six hours at the animal care center.”

WOW. OK, no aliens. For now.

I’ve had conversations like this before, if not with details as intriguing as this, and I’ve found that including some personal info is a great way to draw the person into the brief story I’m crafting for them. It’s same reason I first considered a regional event like Roswell. I set the aliens idea aside and let those three details form a kind of movie for my mind’s eye.

Fifteen minutes later, I had this.

A Day of Troubles

Saturday. Bright. Warm but not too hot. One of the best kinds of days to say goodbye. Little did we know, God had more than one kind of farewell on the agenda.

Scratch that. There’s no way we could have had even the smallest inkling, but I get ahead of myself.

The day of my mother-in-law’s funeral had finally arrived. I say ‘finally’ because the disease had taken a long, tortuous route toward the final conclusion. But as I stated above, it was a good day – the kind she would have liked. One where we might have had lunch as a family in the park, or perhaps spent some time hiking in the desert foothills.

We were both drained and energized in a way that only funerals make a person feel. You reconnect with so many people and share so many wonderful stories. You also laugh more than you anticipate. And yet, you have to be on the whole day. It’s like you’ve adopted a persona that people expect to see: someone strong and well-adjusted. They don’t want to see behind the mask you wear, even though they wouldn’t be surprised because they’ve worn that mask, too.

Afterwards, we enjoyed the weather like she would have wanted us to: my wife, myself, and our dog, Trouble. He’s quite empathetic for a dog, and he seemed to be behaving out of respect for us. Until he wasn’t.

On our way home from the park, he caught me off-guard as he chased a rodent or something under a car. Before I could blink, I lost the leash, he scurried under the car, and disappeared on the other side.

We searched for hours, considering ourselves fortunate that we could follow the occasional bark or curse words that chased him as he scampered through people’s yards.

Dusk approached, heralding more than the night. Ahead lay the state prison, and it was lit up like a city under siege. We’d later learn that Trouble had discovered a hidden tunnel under the fences, and that three inmates had discovered Trouble.

What happens next? I have no idea. It’s an unedited draft of an idea that simply flowed from brain to page. It might never be fleshed out. Despite that, conscious writing decisions were made.

The story begins with a mix of emotions and proceeds at a slow pace, which was deliberate so I could ramp up the action or whatever absurdity my writer brain could conjure. I’m building toward something, even if I don’t know that is.

This brings me to another decision: while there’s nothing particularly profound about these 350 words, I’ve left myself an intriguing mystery to help spark inspiration, should I ever go back to it. It’s a writing technique I developed to help me on those days when my creative tank is running low. To learn more, check out Set Yourself Mysteries.

Cover of a Mad Libs book

It reminds me of another creative exercise I did in college after I changed my major from computer programming to writing. I’d tell someone to give me three details, usually something like a name, a place, and an event, and then I’d spend ten or fifteen minutes telling a story I was making up on the spot. Call it “reverse Mad Libs”. In hindsight, I was teaching myself a way to organize my thoughts around a few key details.

I share these techniques as examples of the tools in my writer’s toolbox. Even when I’m enjoying a simple writing exercise, I’m using these tools without having to think about them. It means the creativity flows better and the effort of writing is more joy than work.

Good luck with your writing!

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Sharing is caring…and inspiring

In my last post, Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate, I described a serendipitous connection with a coworker that seemed to be leading toward a musical partnership.

In hindsight, we were kinda dancing around the topic of collaboration, feeling each other out to determine whether we could work together. Instead of the direct approach – just saying it aloud – this oblique route felt more organic as it developed. Unforced.

As we talked, the conversation was effortless and meaningful. We shared our passions and several creative projects. One that I shared was a novella I started….ooof, twenty years ago. The manuscript still waits patiently in the mezzanine of my brain: I’m not actively working on it, but I haven’t yet relegated it to the dusty attic purgatory where abandoned ideas are stored until the Muse drags them back into the daylight.

Well, that metaphor was certainly well-mixed.

Goo Goo Dolls meet and greet at Best Buy

The novella Healed tells the story of an outcast who has the ability to heal others and take away their pain, but in exchange, those ills manifest in him. He is cursed to bear the physical and emotional scars of each person he saves. Disfigured and burdened beyond what a person can carry, he wishes for nothing but to die. Except he can’t. The inspiration for the story was a lyric from Iris by Goo Goo Dolls, and we enjoyed a laugh as I recounted the disastrous story where I shared that with the band: My Writing Freaked Out a Rock Star.

As I described the protagonist’s torment, generosity, and selflessness, my colleague was enthralled in that way storytellers hope their audiences will be. He pulled more detail from me, asked probing questions, and was otherwise highly engaged. The experience was rewarding in a way that makes you feel better about your creative projects.

The next day, I got this message from him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about your characters, especially the guy who cuts himself. Well it definitely inspired me. I wrote something to capture how I feel, the image of him cutting himself over and over, falling over and over, until he falls for the final time, only to finally be lifted up. So last night I wrote The Law of Gravity.

Seriously, THE NEXT DAY I received a song based on a short discussion about a story I wrote. It was one of the most meaningful gestures of my life, and it told me everything I needed to know about his creative process.

As you can probably imagine, it sparked my writing brain and I knew I had to return the favor. As I listened to 8 tracks from an album he was finishing, I wrote lyrics that I think captured the mood and style of his music. I’ll share them in the next post!

Good luck with your creative projects!

Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Writing Exercise – The An-Teak Desk

A writer never knows when inspiration will arrive or from where. Because algorithm, I stumbled upon the podcast of a friend’s wife. It was a clip in which she discussed junk drawers with her friend. They laughed in delight at the idea of the drawer opening up like the wardrobe to Narnia.

An hour later, I had 1,700 words.

Jammie, so nicknamed for her love of footie pajamas, followed her brother Matt up the dim creaking stairs, her eyes fixed on the close-cropped black hair that had earned the slender boy a moniker of his own. “Gramma missed a spot, Matchstick,” she teased, pointing at the tuft on his head.

He reached back and felt for the place, his lips hissing a derisive sound when he found it. “That’s my lucky spot. She says if you find one of those, you’ll be lucky ‘til your next haircut.”

“I think that’s one of those things grown-ups say to hide their mistakes,” she retorted.

He looked over his shoulder as they neared the top of the stairs. “With all that reading you do, I can’t believe you’ve never heard of that.”

“You read as much as I do and I bet you’ve never heard of it, either.”

The dark shape of the heavy oak door emerged from the shadows before them, a dull brass doorknob reflecting the oil lamp at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of reaching for the knob, he turned and looked down at her. “You read way more than I do.”

“Yeah, but you read en-cy-clo-pedias,” she replied, drawing out the enunciation as a sign of reverence. She’d always wanted to enjoy them – knowledge was important, her daddy advised – but she just didn’t have the head for it, her grandma said.

“I didn’t have a choice, you know.”

“But you like them now, right?”

He stared at his sister, her face aglow with wonder and curiosity. Her eyes could drink in all the details of the world, and still her inquisitiveness would not be sated. “I guess. They’re now like reading an old story you know by heart.”

“I know all about that. My books never showed me that symbol you found, though. My stories are all made up, and writers are liars.”

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How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace
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How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace

A few years ago, I was invited to join a bunch of dice-rolling, whiskey-swilling hooligans at an annual tabletop gaming retreat called Whiskey Weekend.

Bunch of guys around a large table playing games.
Hooligans, amiright?

I was amazed how quickly I fit in and bonded with the group. With my neurodiversity, I don’t make friends easily or often, nor am I comfortable in social situations. One of the people I connected with quickly was Ace. I suspect this was a combination of our similar senses of humor and my willingness to play any game he rolled out. On a future weekend, I gave him some 3D-printed token holders for Everdell, one of his favorite games. His gratitude became delight when I revealed I’d bought my own copy of Everdell because of him.

About two years ago, he shared some rough news with us. Cancer. In the time leading up to our 2024 weekend, he told us he had chemo scheduled the first Saturday of our retreat. He was going to come up briefly and then jump into the treatments. He was in good spirits, and I could tell he enjoyed even that brief time with us. He offered us silicone bracelets as part of his journey – mine disappeared after Benji snagged it for his stuffies to wear – but I believe it conveyed Ace’s philosophy of staying strong and seizing the day.

Knowing how much he loved the event, I wanted to do something special. I wanted to help him feel like he could still experience some of the weekend, even from a distance. So I did two things.

The first was for the group. I 3D printed tabletop minis for everyone to paint and wrote little stories so people could mix and match. More info here. I gave Ace first pick and he was able to make his selection before he had to leave. I later heard he painted it right away and had a fun time. I wish I could have seen the results.

The second was for Ace himself. The whiskey part of Whiskey Weekend involves a double-elimination tournament where we do a blind taste test every hour. I brought little empty bottles for each entry so Ace could sample the same selection he would have gotten with us. It was perhaps a small comfort, considering Ace looked forward to the weekend more than anyone, but he seemed truly touched. I hope he was able to enjoy the drinks and think fondly of Weekends past. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw him. I never got a chance to ask.

Friendship is wonderful, strange, magical thing. I think I’d been together with Ace less than 10 times, and yet, I quickly, easily considered him a good friend. I don’t think I knew his actual name for two years.

And so, I found myself at my first Jewish funeral today.

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Chapter One available
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Chapter One available

As I mentioned in a previous post that announced the Prologue, I’ve started working on publishing my book, Tildy Silverleaf and the Starfall Omen. As I release chapters, I plan to write an accompanying post that provides a behind-the-scenes look at the work. To skip right to reading the new chapter, click here: Chapter One – Spring in Dappledown.

I started my writing with Chapter One, not the Prologue, because getting a feel for my protagonist and her home were crucial to understanding whether I had a story worth pursuing. I needed to establish my unnamed hero, her home, and the witch she reluctantly called “mother”. The ideas flowed effortlessly from thought to word, and Tildy, as she would became known, nearly flew from the page into life.

I had something.

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Writing Exercise: A Day Bright and Full of Promise

It was time for the school bus. Following Benji, I stepped into a beautiful Autumn morning. As though someone spoke to me, this line popped into my head.

A day bright, and full of promise

I stopped in my tracks, my brain beginning to answer the question I no longer had to consciously put into words: “What happens next?” Even after so many years of writing, I continue to be surprised by the amount of creativity sparked by that simple question. Most notably, What if I paused my writing about the lost prince and started a female-centric story about his sister?

It’s a tip I use not only for writing, but in my office job, as well. “OK, we have an issue. What happens next? And then what?” And so on.

The following is about 2 minutes’ work. It’s a minor piece of writing, but I wanted to capture it because it helped inspire me. It’s about having days ahead of you that you want to spend writing. It’s the promise that you’ll create something worthwhile. It’s the power of positive thinking, if you will.

It’s Hope.

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Stories for Whiskey Weekend #3
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Stories for Whiskey Weekend #3

OK, I’m going to be completely straight with you. I forgotten I’d been working on this series. It happens. Best laid plans and life gets in the way and all that. LOL

Recently, the previous posts (Post 1, Post 2) have seen an increase in traffic, so I thought I’d share a few other stories. Before I do, let me restate their purpose. For a gaming and whiskey weekend, I’d 3D printed characters for my friends to paint. To serve as inspiration for their characters, I wrote some quick backstories that they could mix n match as they desired. More info can be found here: Prologue: Stories for Whiskey Weekend.

Now, let’s meet Molli and Noe (painting by Whiskey Weekend guys).

Molli McGillman sighed. She stopped her nomad’s journey and studied the young person’s face. Another death. Perhaps, this is the one I can prevent.

One year ago, Molli had taken a strange path through the woods and fallen into a time paradox. Of course, she wouldn’t have put it into those words, and she was barely aware anything had happened. The next day, she came upon a drowned man on the riverbank. Making her way upstream, she heard cries ahead. There struggling in the water, though she told herself it was a different person, was the man whose body she’d seen. A few hours later, she saw him a third time as he crossed the river on slippery rocks.

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When your writing pays off
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When your writing pays off

Congratulations! Your site, The Lost Royals, passed 10,000 all-time views!

This week I received a surprising notice on my website. I’ve passed 10,000 views! And I’m now on pace to have my best year ever. Considering I do only a little promotion, aside from sharing links on my social media accounts, this feels pretty good!

The website has served as marketing tool, a place to practice my writing skills, a fun way to share tips and traps I’ve discovered, and an opportunity to share a few personal stories. Some posts resonate with my growing audience; some don’t. And that’s fine – it’s a good learning experience, if nothing else.

Even more rewarding, to my writer’s heart, is that I’ve seen a significant uptick in traffic since I started sharing chapters of the completed novel, The Starfall Omen.

Additionally, it’s not just book content that’s receiving attention. Here’s my most popular post 0f 2024: I Still Owe Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis An Apology, from March.

That post still has a ways to go to reach the Number 1 spot, however. Nothing like a heartwarming family story to get readers to show up: Fourteen Weeks and Fourteen Years, which has 265 views.

To everyone who’s visited, commented, shared, and subscribed, thank you so very much. I’m thrilled to be able to share our world with you, and I can’t wait for you to see what happens next!

If you’d like to keep an eye on my activities, feel free to check out my Progress Tracker!

Mike

Enjoy what you just read? Please give us a like, add a comment, or share this post – thanks!

(C) Michael Wallevand, September 2024

I Still Owe Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis An Apology
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I Still Owe Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis An Apology

It was late 1998. I worked for the Suncoast Motion Picture Company, which sold movies and related merchandise. I’d recently transferred from the flagship Mall of America store to the Southdale Mall in Edina. The commute was longer, but I didn’t mind for a couple reasons. The one I’ll articulate here pertains to the clientele.

The Mall of America location was great for people watching. At the time, tourists came from around the world to see the spectacle of the largest mall in the Western Hemisphere. But Southdale, due to the prestige of Edina, attracted a number of celebrities. I was thrilled to learn Janet Jackson (whom I’ll call Ms. Jackson cuz I’m nasty) shopped there when she was in town. And she bought her movies from Suncoast.

The Suncoast where I was now a manager.

In 1998, I was still that small-town kid who’d grown up in a town so tiny it was technically a village. I’d never met a celebrity, and the prospect of meeting Ms. Jackson, someone whose music I absolutely loved, hyped me to a ridiculous degree. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was on the lookout on many shifts.

I grew up loving her albums Control and Rhythm Nation 1814, the latter of which I owned. Back in 1990, I knew everything about that album. You see, I didn’t have many albums as a kid, so when I got a new one, I poured through the liner notes, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor beside my cassette deck. I memorized the lyrics, tracked the music labels, and learned about every musician or other person connected with the production of the album.

If you’re familiar with Janet’s music, the headline of this post is beginning to make sense.

Back to 1998. I’m working the checkout in our third-floor location, when two well-dressed men came in. I offered the usual greetings, made small talk, and helped them as best I could.

These two gentlemen were Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. And they were aware that I didn’t recognize them.

It must have been an unusual experience, especially in the Minneapolis area. Here’s why.

When it comes to the Minneapolis music scene, it didn’t get much bigger than this duo. They formed the band Flyte Tyme, which became The Time under the influence of Prince, and the group would go on to help define the Minneapolis sound in the early 1980s.

After being fired from the band, they started Flyte Tyme Studios, and their partnership went on to earn more than 100 gold, platinum, multi-platinum, and diamond albums. Over their storied career, they’ve worked with some of the biggest names in the biz, including Lionel Richie, Herb Alpert, TLC, Michael Jackson, Aretha Franklin, Boyz II Men, Usher, Patti LaBelle, Mary J. Blige, Chaka Khan, Mariah Carey, Bryan Adams, Spice Girls, Vanessa Williams, Rod Stewart, Gwen Stefani, and New Edition. I particularly loved George Michael’s “Monkey” and The Human League’s “Human” songs. But those weren’t the only memorable tracks.

Forty-one of their songs reached the Top 10 of the Billboard Hot 100. They won five Grammys and got an Oscar nom for their work with Janet Jackson on the song “Again” for the movie Poetic Justice.

EDINA, MN – SEPTEMBER 1989: Singer Janet Jackson poses for photos with music producers Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam during the opening of Flyte Tyme Studios in Edina, Minnesota in September 1989. (Photo By Raymond Boyd/Getty Images)

And speaking of Ms. Jackson, they won a Grammy for producing her album Control. Their follow-up collaboration, Rhythm Nation 1814, dominated the charts with seven hit singles and became one of the biggest albums in the world from 1989-91.

Most of that album work had been done at Flyte Tyme Studios, a convenient 5-minute drive from Southdale.

As I look back upon their visit to my store, I like to imagine these world-renown producers were taking a shopping break from their busy studio schedule. Perhaps, the perfect movie would be a nice diversion, or provide some inspiration for the their next movie project. Little did they know they were talking to a guy who knew every beat and could sing every lyric from Rhythm Nation 1814, many of which they’d written.

A guy’s whose memory was about to betray him, despite his brain containing most of the information I just shared.

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