Let’s go on a little adventure.
Imagine you are a 50-something bookstore owner. Wait a minute. That sounds like someone we know. Well, it is, but for the sake of the story we will continue.
The bookstore owner had the morning off and she decided to enjoy the lovely weather.
“I’ll go to the park,” she thought, “And become completely inspired.” So, go to the park she did. With her journal in one hand and diet Coke in the other, she settled herself in the sun to wait for said inspiration.
Didn’t take long before a plot-worthy situation developed.
A late model Corvette squealed into the parking lot, with deafening trash (she thought it might be referred to as music by some) blaring out of a stereo system far too powerful for any vehicle. The bass was cranked high enough to register on the Richter scale.
Seconds later, a beat-up Honda pulled up beside the Corvette. The drivers of the two cars exchanged a few words through open windows before stepping out and greeting each other with slight nods, mysterious hand gestures, and loud voices.
Something was evidently going on.
From her perch, the 50-something bookstore owner had a clear view of the activities in the parking lot. Her instincts told her to get out of there, but she hesitated, not wanting to draw attention to the herself and the fact that she may have been observing them.
So she didn’t move.
The two men glanced around and, with only the slightest movement, made an exchange. Hands were in and out of pockets before the bookstore owner could even be sure she had seen anything at all. After another quick look around the parking lot, the two got back into their cars and were gone.
She stopped holding her breath, finished off the diet Coke, and made a rather rapid departure.
What had actually happened? She couldn’t be certain. But this would give her plenty of material to chew on for the next Great Canadian Novel.
So much for a peaceful morning.
Inside the Writer 