My friend Kris told me that when I grew up, I should write steamy romance novels, ala Rosemary Rodger, who was a favorite years ago. I took her advice and am now working on novel five ... or is it six? ... or more, depending on whether I count the incomplete one waiting in the wings.
An amazing thing happens to me when I sit at the keyboard in front of the monitor. My fingers seem to be connected directly to my mind and tell the characters what to do, how to act, when to laugh, when to cry. One gloomy Tuesday afternoon, the heroine of Caroline's House drown herself in the ocean, leaving me at a loss as to what do to do next. Oh well, on Wednesday, the novel changed from straight romance to a paranormal and it was off and running.
My ideas come from things in the newspaper, something overheard in a conversation, suggestions from friends, places we have traveled. For example, a stay on Georgia's Tybee Island lent the name to the leading character in my The Last Resort. Anything can trigger an idea, like an old snarled tree on a horizon became The Witness Tree on my upcoming series. The list goes on and on and grows almost daily.
I look out my kitchen window at a pond across the street. It is full of wonderful Florida birds, turtles and even a not-son-wonderful snake, but it is part of the world I share now with husband Bob and black cat known as King Ridley the Terrible.