It’s official. I have a five-month-old demon soccer player growing in my uterus. Evidently, it enjoys night games. As I toss and turn, adjusting pillows between my legs and under my back, I realize this is the second week in a row that I am struggling with sleep. I decide I should be productive and head to my office. I’ll work tonight and rest in the recliner tomorrow when the baby quits moving.
I stare at my current work in progress for several minutes. My writing mojo must be on vacation. I’m just not feeling this current story. I swirl my chair, looking out over the lights and sleeping city. As I clear my mind, a new story idea appears. Back at my laptop, I open a new document and let my fingers fly.
I loosely base the characters on Hamilton and myself. The male character is a ball player, and the couple are high school sweethearts. My storyline follows them from high school to college to the MLB. The words quickly pour from my fingertips.