The Hague Online's 'Writer in Residence' Jo Parfitt is musing about . . .

Inspired by the littlest things

April column 2011
 

Just over ten days ago I was in New York celebrating my birthday with my husband. Now Ian, for those of you who have never met him for more than five minutes may not know this, but he is a Rolling Stones fan. Wherever we go in the world, if the Stones went there we have to go too.

So where did we go in New York? Montauk. Where is Montauk? A little fishing village on the very tip of Long Island. How long does it take to get there? Three hours!! Why Montauk? Because that is where the Stones wrote Memory Motel. That is where you can find the very same motel … and not much else I can tell you out of season (though I hear it is buzzing in summer).

Still, I was inspired. If the Stones found a place inspiring enough to write a song there to which even I knew some of the lyrics, then I was prepared for six hours stuck in a hire car on the only sunny day of our trip.

The Memory Motel is easy to find, standing as it does slap bang in front of you as you draw up to the village. There was no sea view. Only a handful of rooms and to me the motel looked more like a wooden prefabricated scout hut than somewhere I would pay to stay. Grass grew on the roof. The hotel was closed for winter. A faded teeshirt was pinned up behind the window of glass display case outside room 1, which doubled as the office. It was a rubbish teeshirt but Ian’s eyes lit up and he knocked on the door of room 1. I sighed with relief when no one answered.

So we went for lunch, debating why and how a great song could have been inspired by such a frankly dull environment.

Only, like I told you, it was off season. Nowhere seemed to be open. And then, down among the fishing boats we found Lenny’s Diner with a summer terrace (therefore closed) overlooking the beautiful harbour. We found the best fish and chips I have eaten outside the George Hotel in Stamford. No, they were better than the George’s chips. And we found a guy in green overalls who pulled up a bar stool beside us and ordered a drink.

“John Patrick Lennon,” said John, turning to us and shaking hands. “No relation. Been here 50 years.”

“So, the Stones came to the Memory Motel, did they?” asked Ian, who had already calculated that meant that Lennon had been around when his heroes had come to town.”

John Lennon nodded. “Yeah, but they got chucked out after a coupla hours for making such a racket,” he said. “Spent all their time round Andy Warhol’s place.”

Our trip to Montauk had revealed that the Stones had written Memory Motel in just a couple of hours in a seedy motel.

You see, when inspiration comes it comes quickly and sometimes without warning. Often, when it flows it may take just an hour or two to create a finished piece, a perfect piece. Who needs fancy views and the latest Apple Mac in order to create good stuff? Even Stephen King in his book On Writing discovered that he was most creative when “staring at a wall”.

I believe that it was the name Memory Motel that did it for Mick and Keith that day. Just the name. Perfect in its alliteration and all that evokes. Who cares that the actual place is not very exciting, beautiful or upmarket? That isn’t what’s important. The name was all it took to trigger creativity that day. Just a name.

That is why I am such a passionate believer in the value of paying attention. It is the little things, the first single flower in the garden, the first frost, the sight of steam coming out of a pavement, a street name or the way an old lady wears her hat that inspire me.

What inspires you?

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