Picking On The Neighbors

Here's a non news flash. Every writer on the planet knows this is a solitary business. Conferences and chapter meetings and critique groups aside, what we create has to be done in private if the muse is going to have full rein. Yes, I've pounded out words with children underfoot, but I don't recommend it. We writers have little enough sanity and much as we love our offspring, they're best known for their ability to interrupt.
So what does this have to do with picking on my neighbors? Yesterday morning I attended a community meeting which gave me a fabulous opportunity to observe people who feel passionately one way or another about a hot topic. The topic isn't important and I'm keeping a rein on my opinions (which are the right ones, of course) because I'll digress. In brief, people are deeply committed to their community, their home values, sense of security, etc, etc. As a result, this particular issue cut through political correctness and at times brought out the claws.
As for me, when I wasn't mentally agreeing or disagreeing with the various speakers, I was taking writerly notes. Examples: the elderly man whose fortunately short speech was completely off-topic and whose exposed butt crack totally distracted me. Then there was the immaculately put together snob (yes, personal opinion here) who found fault with everything from city hall to the federal government. Next up the articulate and calm board member whose reactions to criticism of the board was to detail why things were being done the way they were. Out of no where came the daughter of the woman whose home-based enterprise caused all the ruckus. Her empassioned compliments, although over-the-top were a powerful example of committment and family loyalty.
No, there weren't any romantic or erotic-type heroes in attendance although the man who came on his motorcycle and wore a leather jacket, had possibilities. Just cut off about 40 years and twice that many pounds. I could merge the motorcycle and jacket with the board member's intelligence. And nothing close to a heroine although I'd love to use elements of the daughter's passion. Maybe I will. Yes, I know I will.
Yesterday had nothing to do with erotica, just the reminder I need that the human beast comes in infinite forms. And I'm free to pull whatever elements I need for my fiction out of those beasts.
On another note, after a hefty rewrite, my contribution to Loose IDs salute to the military called Midnight Soldier is just about ready to go to press--which means November.
Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com