It happened again today. There I was, puffing up Hope Mountain Road in Wales, my bare and thus freezing knees wondering why their owner hadn’t put longer cycling trousers on today, when an idea popped into my head. The idea resolved a problem I had with a plot for a Literary novel I discussed with Canadian playwright friend, Donna Gagnon yesterday. I’m not going to tell all at this stage, but it fascinates me where ideas come from. I’ve asked other writers this too, and they usually say they just come to them. Sometimes, an overheard snatch of conversation triggers storylines. I know that works. I had a phone conversation with the Historical Romance writer, Ruth Hamilton, last year. Being a bit deaf I thought she said the phrase ‘… a ghost before he died…’ During that week I was trying to create five horror / ghost stories for HorrorMasters.com and the notion of someone being a ghost before they’d terminated life appealed to me so much I missed the rest of the sentence. Later, Ruth (real name, Linda, which is an amazing coincidence because I have a sister whose name is Linda Ruth!) said how pleased she was that she’d inspired a story I was able to sell but she’d never uttered those words – they were corrupted by my cochlea. Hah!

I think I have so many story ideas cycling or walking up hills because extra oxygenated blood surges into the imagination cell I carry about in my brain. Alternatively, there might be some creative sheep up here who telepath ideas to a fellow vegetarian!