Inbal Ganor is a screenplay writer and editor. She did her Bachelors and Masters at the Tel Aviv University’s Film and Television Department, where she went on to teach screenplay writing. Inbal lives and writes in Tel Aviv.
At home I get up, walk back and forth, open the fridge door, look inside, close the fridge door. In a café I am bolted to my seat in a representable and obedient way, ashamed to even go on Facebook. The people around me, the motion, the buzz – bring back my inner serenity; I am part of the human brotherhood, everything is ok.
I tend to choose cafés in which it’s ok to sit for hours, very unpopular cafés and if possible a little musty.
There’s no heat wave outside, I’m not in a busy Tel Aviv street, Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath are sitting at the table next to mine, with their laptops open, sipping double espressos.
Anything that can give me inspiration, throw me into a different world, a different time, into someone else’s existence and experiences. During writing periods I find I prefer reading non-fiction: sociology, psychiatry, religion, holocaust, psychology, holocaust and psychology. And more.
I like having a soundtrack accompanying me and influencing my mood, the characters’ mood and the atmosphere as a whole. The disadvantage of this is that sometimes when I finish what I was working on, I can’t listen to that music ever again.
4. iPhone Notes
If ideas, fragments, dreams I dreamt, or maybe a story someone told me that affected me in some way pop into my mind – I quickly write them down in shorthand on an iPhone note. Sometimes I even manage to make the connection between what I wrote and whatever the hell it was I was thinking at the time.
5. The Lives of Others
Thankfully, most of the people around me are interesting characters with interesting points of view, and there’s nothing I love more than hearing people tell about their everyday dramas and the dramas of the people in their lives. If they’re funny, it’s even better.
6. Wisława Szymborska
This poster I once made (instead of working) at a workplace I no longer work at, goes with me wherever I move. Her presence, her naughty gaze and defiant cigarette, make me feel good. People who carry themselves gracefully and not too gravely, make me happy. Even if I don’t get to meet them personally. And I haven’t even said a word about her writing (who am I, what am I).