If you are a writer, you have lots and lots and possibly lots of ideas pop into your head all the time. Will they become a full story? Depends on how deep the inspiration goes and how much time you have. I know I will never have time to write all my story ideas.
I have a scene that takes place in a superstore, where a man who is a germaphobe and not comfortable with people finds the aisle with the antibiotic wipes occupied by a woman with two children. She’s recently widowed and doesn’t want to be involved with a man who takes risks foolishly. Her husband was a dedicated motorcycle racer. That one has actually gotten to the level of giving the characters names.
Then I have an idea where a man is looking for a safe woman to have sex with, and by safe he means won’t want to make it a permanent relationship. She wears her wedding ring still, in spite of being widowed for a long time. Yeah, I don’t know what this thing about widows is all about.
I love paranormal romances, but don’t know why I had a ghost story attempt to gestate in my brain. All I know is, while at a party in a supposedly haunted house, the heroine sees a man that no one else can see. Her friend tells her not to tell him her name. He tells her that’s just a myth. And he’s been dead for 200 years, what harm can he do?
This I put up as a prompt in an on-line writing group: Blood dripped from his hand, congealing as it cooled in the basement room. “I didn’t kill her,” he told me.
Only one person responded, but the short piece was great. She hopes to expand on it and write a paranormal romance. Score!
Near my house there’s a backyard with a tree house near the wall that separates the property from the street. I stared at the tree house for hours, sometimes while listening to Bare Naked Ladies doing If I Had a Million Dollars. What if a homeless person found a way to live in the tree house without the owner of the house ever knowing?
My Amazon parrot was originally owned by a drug dealer. When I am not where my parrot can see me, he shouts “Help! Help!” What if a parrot was thought to have information tied to a drug dealer and was being cared for by an animal services worker in case he revealed clues to the crime being investigated?
And on and on it goes. Life is so full of events and happenstances that I can’t imagine running out of ideas. Running out of time is much more of a concern. Guess I better get back to writing. Thanks for reading, I’ll be back on Thursday.