Inspiration can come in the most unexpected of places. Today, it was music. You know how sometimes, you might hear a song and it pulls a forgotten memory to you? You savor the experience, and can perhaps be glad that the song happened to play at that time. This is how it was with me, only instead of memory, an important story element emerged.
It was cold this morning. The wind smelled like winter, or at least a lesser form of it. Although I have completed my fall novella, The Runaway Train, I still have quite a bit of work to do. The final edits on Monsoon Morning are turning out to be more than I had anticipated, and I’m afraid that it’s release might have to be pushed back. It may be too early to tell, though.
In the meantime, I am working on the next novella. It’s title is The Truth About Alex, and I suppose that it’s been in the planning stages for a little while. The story begins at a construction site, inside a skeletal building overlooking the city.
Alright, well, I suppose that I should get to it.