A while back, I shared about how creepy it can be inside a writer’s mind. But seriously, there are all sorts of things that go on in there and the ideas/inspirations/distractions/squirrels can pick the most inopportune times to pop out.
Like the other day as I sat in a … oh, I hate to admit this … a funeral.
Please don’t judge me! I really couldn’t help it. The minister was exceptional. His insight, and the truth he spoke made me cry. But during a slow moment, it happened. Boom. The ideas popped in as I stared at the closed coffin. I was no longer my middle-aged self sitting between my mom and one of my daughters. I was suddenly a young woman sitting alone on the back row and beginning to fear for her life.
“What if someone was killing-off a coed softball team one player at a time? Who? And why? And how would the shortstop find out before she was killed, too?”
My mind spun in several directions at once. A hero emerged, though he hardly seems heroic at first. A creep who had all sorts of motives for being the major bad guy turned into just a creep. A sub-plot of a terrified best friend crept into the picture. And loads of suspects to be wary of. Not enough to be a cozy mystery, though. After all, the clock ticks away as more players drop.
I know. That’s just so wrong on so many levels, but the sweet lady whose life I was celebrating would have clapped her hands and hollered, “Tell me more!”
Oh, this could be a juicy story! Wanna read it? Me, too. But I guess I better write it first!
Your Turn: Have you ever found yourself in the exact WRONG place for inspiration of any kind to hit? (Wait till I tell you about my thoughts in my friend’s hospital room!)