The swearing in of the Orange one made me ill, and there was only one way to dissipate the dark clouds of depression forming in my mind. I needed to get out and walk. Happily, the weather was amenable for the first time in months, so Herself and I headed out the door to wonder the neighborhood for the first time since Thanksgiving.
As we strolled through the park, we discussed my current project, Fool’s Journey. I have the story fairly well plotted out. I know who gets offed, who does the offing and how the offing is done. I have a list of suspects and plausible red-herrings. The only thing I did not know was how my sleuth, Josephine DuBois, solves the crime and beings the evil doer to justice. Within a few blocks, the malevolent shade of impending doom which had descended upon both of us earlier had lifted as we happily discussed how Joe would solve the murder. (I keep telling you, artist, and writers in particular, are not normal people.)
To say that Herself is an avid reader is akin to saying Roger Ebert was a movie buff. She reads constantly, primarily mysteries, and stacked away in her head are thousands, nay tens of thousands plot concepts. As we strolled from block to block, she tossed out ideas one after another. We were a bit over a mile from the house when she tossed out one that took root like a weed in my mind. As we discussed the idea, it flourished, and quickly blossomed. By the time we returned to the house some 90 minutes after we first walked out our front door, I had every part of the story in place. I love it when a plan comes together.