A few months after getting fired, I awakened, as usual, at three in the morning.
Couldn't sleep. Upset. Angry. For months.
This particular three a.m. was, somehow, different. There was a story playing in my head, a reel that just kept rolling.
There was a dead priest, a gay choir, a spunky reporter and a gorgeous police officer. And a couple of really, really bad guys.
Where the heck did they come from?
From somewhere in my subconscious, these characters emerged — not fully formed, but, to me, interesting enough that I let the story develop in my sleep-deprived brain.
They say if you have ideas in the middle of the night, you should write them down. Well, I figured if I remembered these folks in the morning, great. Maybe they were worth remembering. If not, to heck with them.
I went back to sleep.
And I did remember them. And now I spend several hours a week with them. They're mine, now. A few of them have taken on personalities of their own, and as the plot unwinds, they do things that completely amaze me. They have taken control.
It's a crazy journey. I've written all my life, but I've never seriously taken on a full-length work of any kind. Can't stop now. I'm so close...about two-thirds finished, maybe a bit more. I'm slowly learning stuff about publishing, self-publishing, finding editors...the whole magilla. So, here's my novel idea. My adventure...which would be lonely without Grace, Adam, James and Bruce living in my head. Let's see what happens.