I take a notebook and write when I go to the mall or when I go to restaurants.
I listen to people and write what they say.
I write what people say when I talk on the phone.
I write what flows through my head even though most of the time it’s junk and doesn’t make much sense.
I look at magazines and write the words I see.
I’d describe the granite counter top I’m writing on if I felt like it then, I’d describe the edges. Or,
I’d write about the plastic bottles I took from the garbage can at the gas station the other day and the crotch of that fat girl I saw bent over cleaning her car of empty plastic bottles when I pulled in to get gas while she was throwing them into the can.