So awhile back I was watching the CMA awards, because that's how I roll when I'm not listening to Elvis or vintage Metallica, waiting for my main music squeeze to perform when he rolls out the first few notes of a song I thought would remain in obscurity forever. He has those-the heavily-banjo-ed, borderline Hee-Haw ones that will forever be trapped between more commercial radio releases. I never dreamed this quiet, sad, painful little song would reach so many. Damn and double damn. One, because I'm selfish, and it was my perfect little find when everyone else was singing his number one hits. And two, because it hit me during the perfect time this past summer when the planets aligned and story lightning struck. Now, as with everything on the pop-culture radar, freshness eventually stales. I fear editors-especially in romance-will see a surge in this unique setting, at this unique time, with this unique human experience. Yes, author voice does ensure no two stories are the same, but one has to only say, "Vampire" to witness the eye rolls and see how that theory has played out.
I am also in full-hoard mode this week because I had to surrender my old satellite box for the new HD one. A Kleenex moment to rival the commercial of the soldier coming home at Christmas. The Elvis movie Roustabout, gone(which, incidentally, was the Yang to the previous Yin of fictional inspiration this summer). Forty MacGyver episodes, gone. And while watching him try to escape a nuclear reactor in ninety seconds would make it all worth it were in experienced in high-def, sadly, it is not to be. Put me on a 52" beach with Josh Holloway come January and I'll bring the suntan lotion, though. With my DVR cupboard bare, I'll turn to the best high def experience around: writing fiction.
What do you do with your inspirations?