Where do you get your ideas?

Where do you get your ideas? That's a question that is often asked of writers. As I prepare to begin Book Three, I thought I'd share my process.

I've been wracking my brains for a few months for the next great idea but everything seemed stale and lifeless until a couple of days ago when # 1 Reader mentioned the word cult.

That's all. Just that one word. Cult.

My brain perked up but I didn't have time to think consciously about the concept, and it wasn't until yesterday that things began to gel. This is how it happened. Honestly.

I was driving along thinking about nothing when out of the blue, Signy Shepherd appeared in the passenger seat. I barely had a chance to register that shocking fact when she started talking.

Signy: Hey, writer girl.

Me: Who---?

Signy: Calm down. It's only me. Signy.

Me: What the---?

Signy: (cranking her eyes to heaven) Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?

Me: (with my usual flair for witty dialogue) Eh?

Signy: Get a grip, lady. I have a job for you.

Me: What are you talking about?

Signy: (peering closely at me) Are you really the writer? Cause, I have to say that slack jaw is making me nervous.

Me: (eyes darting) No....I mean yes. I'm the writer.

Signy: Well, start acting like one for God's sake, and pay attention. Something's happened and I need your help.

Me: My what?

Signy: Seriously? You've done this a couple of times now, what aren't you getting?

Me:  (finally twigging to the glint of amused excitement in her eyes) Oh, you mean you want me to write something?

Signy: Give the girl a pink balloon.

Me: (thinking about what on earth a pink balloon has to do with anything) Eh?

Signy: Never mind, just listen up.

Me: Yes Ma'am.

Signy: What do you know about cults?

Me: Um. Jim Jones. Koolaid?

Signy: (shaking her head) Looks like you have some work to do.

Me: Work?

Signy: God, you're annoying. Look, there's this girl. She's being held captive in the wilds of Eastern Ontario. The cult leader is a real piece of work, a manipulative psychopath. No way she can get out on her own and the cops can't help. 

Me: (smiling broadly) Trapped inside a cult, eh? Sounds cool.

Signy: (frowning) I'm not sure the word cool is the right choice.

Me: I didn't mean to suggest-----

Signy:  Look. I can't imagine how or why the average Joe gets drawn in by these charismatic creeps, so you need to get cracking. I'm going to need a lot of intel before I infiltrate the place.

Me: Hold on. You're going undercover?

Signy: Of course. How else will I be able to rescue the girl?

Me: But a place like that would be remote, off-grid. There would be no one around for miles. God only knows what kind of crazy stuff you'd have to face.

Signy: (smacking the dashboard with her palm) That's why I need your help. I need you to find out everything you can about the compound, the freak who runs the group, and anything else you think might be important. (she leans in) And, you have to hurry. I don't know how much time she has left.

Me: (eyes on the road ahead) I can do that. It sounds awesome.

Signy: (smiling at me, her blue eyes flashing) Come on. You don't remember the hipster doofus word for awesome?

Me: Um. I'll ask my daughter.

Signy: (sighing) I won't lie. A younger writer would have been easier to work with, but I'm stuck with you, so get moving on that research, okay? We're running out of time.

Me: You bet. I'm on it. I won't let you down.

Signy: I'm not worried, writer girl. I'm gonna be on your case night and day until we get this situation resolved.

Me: Awesome.

Signy: God, this is going to be a long trip. Quit talking and drive, okay?

Me: (gripping the wheel) Yes, Ma'am. 


AND THAT...is how I get my ideas.

p.s. Hipster doofus word for awesome is SICK. Try and remember that.