I remember the occasion well, even though it was years ago. The hubs and I were out to dinner at a fancy schmancy restaurant. The sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the waves in gold. Surfers were catching their final rides before heading home. Romantic doesn’t even begin to describe it. And there I was…in another world.
Hubs: Lynnie? Helloooooo, anyone home?
Lynn: <stares off in a fugue state>
Hubs: <picks up butter knife and clangs it on my wine glass> Hey, guess what? Antonio Banderas just walked in asking for a brilliant editor for his new book.
Lynn: <mentioning Antonio gets her attention, and she endures neck spasms looking for his backside> You dog. Antonio wouldn’t come to Laguna Beach without telling me. It’s the law, you know.
Hubs: Um yeah, I’m tired of holding a one-way conversation. You’re as exciting as a bowl of warm fish.
And there it was. A fabulous dinner in a fabulous setting, with a fabulous hubby, and I’m thinking of how I’m going to have to kill one of my characters…and it grieves me to no end. I’m almost in tears because I’ve come to adore this character. My muse’s timing couldn’t be worse, but my dear hubs is patient and waits for my inner plotting situates itself.
I’ve learned that ideas hit on their own schedule. They don’t wait until I’m at my computer, ready to pen brilliant tomes. They strike at weddings, fancy dinners, driving to the vet, shopping for jeans, or at 3 a.m.
I’ve also learned that we owe a platter of gratitude to those who suffer because they’re crazy enough to live with us. They’ve learned to inhale that coconut shrimp so we can madly scribble down a delicious plot twist on their cocktail napkin. They’ve learned to clarify our conversations about someone dying by making sure we’re talking about a character and not a real person.
Writers are a different breed, and I salute those brave souls who love us in spite of our passions…and insanity.
What are some of your crazier stories about writing and your loved ones that have gotten you into trouble?