"Tall, blond, and handsome, yet he never leaves home." Suzy-Jo Martin turned from her front window (and from the bare-chested hunk mowing the lawn across the street) and took the lemonade her friend Eliza offered. "I think he's a child molester or a rapist."
"Does he have one of those home alarm bracelets on his ankle?"
"I don't get that close to look. He's a child molester."
"Or a rapist," Eliza added. Her smile wasn't the least bit amusing.
Suszy-Jo casually sipped her bittersweet lemonade. "The children and women in this cul-de-sac could be in danger. I don't think you are taking this as serious as need be." She turned back to the window. Pity, his debauched past. No man who looks so angelic should have such base vices. "I need to find out his name so I can Google him. Go meet him for me."
Eliza drew back the silk curtain and edged closer to the window. "He looks like a hero on one of those bodice-ripper romances."
Suzy-Jo sighed. Double pity, his debauched past. "Take a couple of cookies with you. For food, men will confess national secretes."
"I'm a woman and I'm pregnant." Eliza stared hard at Suzy-Jo. "If he's a rapist or molester, I'm top billing."
"You'll be fine. I'm watching."
Eliza rolled her eyes. "A rapist/child molester and a peeping-Tom. You two make quite a pair."
Hmm, I think I could write a story from that. Clearly he's not a child molester. Or a rapist. This would be a romance, after all. And I can't help but wonder why he never leaves home. Poor guy.
Ideas are the bread of a writer's life.
Ideas are everywhere.
The key is being receptive to them. Listen. Watch. Ponder.
On my way to take my middle two kids to school, I was driving through our neighborhood noticing the yards that needed mowing. In my head, I heard, "Tall, blond, and handsome, yet he never leaves home. I think he's a child molester or rapist." And then I got to thinking who would say that, where would she say it, and why would she say it?
The rest of the story?
Oh, I don't know.
What do you think could happen?