In Dreams

Having finished the short story - finally! - and begun the polish on the Heiress, I was a little concerned because I didn't know what I was writing next. Usually I have the idea planted and growing while I'm finishing up the current project. Not this time.

My best friends have a dental practice. They get a jillion magazines a month, and every time I go in there, Jeanette makes me take a big stack of them home with me. She gives me things like Cosmo and Men's Health because sometimes the pictures are helpful. I've spent considerable time flipping through those slick shiny pages seeking inspiration. Nada.

My clock is set for six every morning. Sometimes I get up then; sometimes I hit snooze and sleep a few more minutes. Today I hit snooze. And I dreamed.

I was sitting in my grandmother's backyard under the pecan tree, writing in a spiral bound notebook. "And finally, you come home because this is where people love you."

All right, it isn't much, but it's a start. We have a heroine who grew up in a small town in Georgia. For some reason she left it. For some other reason, she came back. And it seems to me that she came back wounded because she wanted to be with people who loved her.

I was born in Thomaston, Georgia. Back then it was a small cotton-mill town. Now it's a suburb of Atlanta. But all of Georgia is a suburb of Atlanta these days. We moved to Florida when I was four. But we always went back. My grandparents lived there until they died. Every Mother's Day, every Thanksgiving, every summer, we were there. I know this town, and I know its people. This could be my next book. We'll see.

There are still many details to work out - who is the hero, for example? But at least I have something simmering. Now, back to the Heiress.

Have a great day!
Delia