Skip to main content

Funny How a Book Might Arrive

As a writer, anything might strike your interest and inspire a book.I remember being in Key West many years ago and meeting an old time sailor man on the street. He was such a neat character that he later inspired the character named Dunny in my book The Dan Tattoo. At other times a place or a happening may start a book. Recently, I had an experience in a hotel that cries out for a spy novel.
I had talked to some people in an elevator. When I left the elevator one of the men tried to unobtrusively follow me and see which room I went into. I noticed it but I was not particularly alarmed. Sometime during the night a note was slid under my door. Intriguing? Yeah, I thought so too.
I have another example from this current road trip I'm on. I was in a rest area in Arkansas and a young man came into the rest room and began to wash his left hand. He lathered it up with soap and scrubbed it until it made funny noises. Then he rinsed it with cold water for like a full minute. That's not the odd thing. Later that day we stopped at another rest area in Arkansas and the same thing happened. The same guy, actually. Perhaps I'm just a paranoid old man or a writer with an overactive imagination, but I don't believe in coincidence, I don't trust people and I am a student of human nature. Life and folks, like the critters back home, are interesting.
From the road, CE Wills ...
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The White Chicken Mystery

    The other night I happened to come home very late. It was the middle of the night and I was driving up a steep mountain road. Near the top I saw something white in my headlights. It was standing in the other lane, standing very still. It was a large white chicken. It was probably a rooster because I thought I could see his comb as I whizzed by at my customary pace. He never moved a muscle. This is weird, don't you think?      After a couple of days to consider this phenomenon, I have come up with some plausible answers for his bizarre behavior. 1. He was conflicted whether or not he should cross the road. 2. He was feeling cocky and decided to play chicken with the traffic. 3.He was being hen-pecked at home and had decided to end it all. 4. Someone had egged him on to do it. 5. He had just watched the movie Fantastic Four and decided to try to stop a truck the way that Ben Grimm did on the bridge. 6. He had driven himself crazy wondering if ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Egg Art

     Hey, everyone. One of the odd customs in America is the Easter Egg Hunt. Here at the Green Retreat, we do a hunt every Spring. I just ran across some of the pictures from this years hunt and it is obvious that an artist had sneaked into our midst. The orange egg is a rendering of one of the Angry Birds of gaming lore. If I were a bird and had to pass an egg that size, I would be angry too. Ha, ha.      We typically will dye about 10 dozen eggs and people get quite creative with their quotes and colors, as you can see. Many of the eggs are a bit risque for these pages. After having a few laughs, we hide the eggs. All of them are never found, which is cool. It is amusing to see old men (me) and all ages of folks, walking around with a basket on their arm. Some of the hiding spots are dastardly. Like eggs hidden in the guttering downspouts and ten foot up a tree. The kids are perhaps the most devious at hiding the colorful orbs, goi...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Biscuit

    Hey, everyone. What a relief that Christmas is over, huh? I don't think it was meant to be the way it is.     I started thinking about the so-called good 'ole days today. My wife says that at her house, they would take a left-over biscuit and shine their shoes before church. I one-upped her by saying, "Oh, yeah? I ate the biscuit when everyone got finished with it. And I was grateful for it." Truly, though, you can and people did, shine their shoes with a biscuit. Hey, they were greasy little buggers.     Speaking of greasy little buggers, I remember when everyone had wells and were very conservative about water, particularly those of us who had to crank a handle up and down to get a bucket of water. There was no daily bath. (No showers in those days, mate.) About twice a week we took a bath and here's the recipe: The oldest kid took a bath first, then the next oldest etc. You can see why younger siblings hated the older. Bathing in the...
Post a Comment
Read more