Inchworms and inspiration

Feeling grateful for an unexpected, unplanned oasis and news informing fiction.

It is a perfect Sunday morning. Low seventies and clear blue skies. Birds chirping, bunnies hopping, and inchworms inching.

My “backyard” is a lush landscape of tall grasses, trees, and stands of purple flowers. It’s an island in developed chaos. We live in a community of over 5,000 homes. Only a few miles from the interstate, some days it sounds like the traffic is next door.

But within this collection of humanity is a little oasis of Mother Nature. It’s heaven in Huntley. A dream in Del Webb.

We lucked into this place. Last summer, we were unceremoniously informed that our landlord would increase our rent by an exorbitant amount. We said no. Signed our intent to vacate. And then I left for a month (basically) for work. By the time I got back, we had three weeks to find a place.

Friends and family panicked for us, but I wasn’t worried. “We’ll find something even better than this,” I said. We’d loved our previous place, but not enough to give a greedy landlord that much of a raise, especially when receiving nothing additional in return.

The morning of July 3, we called a realtor, recommended by a friend who worked in her office. That night, we met her at one of her listings. We applied, and by July 5 we’d been approved - over the holiday. 

What sold me, besides the community itself and the resort-like amenities, was this oasis. After years spent living in places without easy outside access, for the last decade it's been a requirement.

We looked at one place. 

I believed we would find a wonderful home, and we did. Call it manifestation, call it luck, but I never had any doubt.

Most of the time, I have that same faith in my writing.

Most of the time, but occasionally I have these niggling little thoughts that erode my confidence. When I do, I take a deep breath (often several). I write it all out, what I’m afraid of or just anything at all that’s on my mind. And then something wonderful happens.

It doesn’t always happen right away. For instance (and this is where I’ve been heading), I haven’t been able to get a handle on one of my pivotal characters in Chaos in the Canyon. I knew he was a hedge fund billionaire that people loved to hate, and I knew what happened to him. But I couldn’t get a handle on Him. I told myself to relax. Keep going. Fix him later.

Then this week a story emerged in Chicago press about a man with the same profession and boom - hello, Sheridan Greene. Nice to meet you. 

Inspiration comes from everywhere. Overheard conversations, news, family drama, social media, movies, shows, books - everywhere. Being a fiction author means living in a world of “What if?” I’ve got a folder dedicated to story ideas. I’m filling it with random snippets. “White gloves not recommended for old books.” “Riddler - turns bottles to remove sediment.” “Muscles - French for muzzle.” “Poisonous books.”

One of the most intriguing is this one: “Naked woman bursts into gas station; threatens to kill everyone with an apple peeler.”

Before you ask, I have no idea where that came from. Was that another headline? Inspired by a meme I saw on Facebook? Who knows? But at some point, I may take that prompt and run with it just to see what happens.

Like this morning’s inchworm, who kept raising his tiny little head whenever he encountered an obstacle, I’ll find a way.

It is a perfect Sunday morning, and I’m in danger of proselytizing, so I think I’ll stop, enjoy my onion, pepper, and feta omelet and my blueberry muffin coffee, and write about a dastardly hedge fund billionaire and the people who love to hate him.

Happy reading!

Theresa

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