Last night while trip-trapping around my back yard with a flashlight, picking slugs off of my baby herbs (I have a monstrous infestation going on), I came up with an idea for another novel. It started with the most ridiculous, most attention-grabbing opening line I could possibly think of. It was the perfect sentence, an awesome pitch that would amuse some, offend others, and definitely make a reader want to know where this sentence would lead them. I thought, “If only I can carry it through. Can I make an entire novel out of a sentence that was no more than a fleeting thought in my slug-numbed brain?” Turns out, I may be able to do just that.
Me and Agatha (the broke-ass Explorer) were back at the Ford dealership today. While Aggie was having her oil changed, her A.C. charged and her cruise control fixed, I sat at the little cubby desk in the waiting room and scribbled in my mostly full Five Star notebook. I’m not sure how long I was there. Maybe an hour. Maybe longer. I couldn’t tell you; I was that absorbed in the work. By the time Agatha was finished, I had most of a plot outlined, as well as more details and backstory crafted for the novel I’m currently working on.
You know, I think I may have to have to lease that desk. Before today’s flood of inspiration that same waiting room provided the backdrop for the detailing of Resonance‘s sequel. I guess when faced with the choice of either watching Regis and Kelly yap away like accessory dogs or get some real work done, I have no choice but to do the latter. Whatever the reason, I’m really prolific when I’m there.
What do you think? Should I show up every day with a briefcase and get to work and see if anyone stops me? Or, should I go the legitimate route and present them with a proposal package? Maybe they’ll trade the desk space for straightening the magazines, or something.
So, along with my current work-in-progress and the YA novel I’ve been considering, I have another contemporary/urban fantasy on my hands. Not too shabby. Looks like I took everyone’s excellent advice and moved on–at hyper speed. I guess I’m just going to have to kick it Stephen King style and write three books at once.