Kiernan Kelly blogs about "Writer's Foreplay"

Inspiration is a writer's foreplay. It consumes you, distracts you, and yes, stimulates and excites you. Just like having sex, once you're all hot and bothered it's exceedingly difficult to do anything but let go and enjoy the ride.

Let's try an experiment.

Close your eyes and imagine having a spontaneous orgasm in the middle of a very public place. You might try to hide it, but you know people are staring at you because you're practically bouncing in your seat, eyes wide and lit up like Times Square on New Year's Eve. It's embarrassing, but you can't stop.

That's what it's like when a writer gets an idea. Telling a writer to shelve a new idea until a more convenient time is like telling a woman in labor to put a cork in it. It's just not going to work, my friend, at least, not for long.

It's not the writer's fault, either. Once inspiration hits, their brain is no longer their own, and will refuse to function beyond developing the new idea they just had. It's as if the idea is a face-hugger from Alien, and writer won't be free again until the idea bursts out of his or her body fully formed, ready to take over the world. Except, hopefully, the writer survives the process and lives to give birth to another alien idea-spawn someday.

In addition, there's no defense against inspiration; there's no way for a writer to tell beforehand when or where it's going to strike, hence the spontaneous-orgasm-in-public metaphor.

The one thing I've figured out about being a writer is that the title doesn't come with an early warning system. There are no sirens, no flashing red lights, nothing to indicate that you're about to be whacked over the head hard with the inspiration stick. One minute you're out enjoying a nice cup of coffee at the neighborhood Starbucks, wondering what to make for dinner, or how you're ever going to get that black spot out of the living room rug, when...bam! Inspiration hits.

When that happens, there's nothing left for a writer to do but write. Forget trying to savor your mocha frappe, or figure out whether club soda will do the trick on the rug stain. You're done. You may physically be somewhere else – like at your day job, for instance - but your mind is at home sketching out a rough outline of your idea.

It's the polar opposite of writer's block, and just as hard-hitting and difficult to ignore. Someday I believe scientists will even give the condition a name – Writer's Mania, maybe. There'll be studies made, and theses written, a lobby group formed. Stephen King or Nora Roberts can host the telethon.

When I got the inspiration for A Weapon of Opportunity, which releases tomorrow at Loose Id (hooray!), the idea hit me hard and fast. I remember the moment it happened clearly. I was at dinner with my family, laughing and talking as usual, when my daughter looked at me and said, "A Weapon of Opportunity. You should use that as a title for one of your books, Mom."

I don't know how she came up with the title since I believe our conversation at the time had something to do with whether Fruity Pebbles cereal would make a viable packing substitute for Styrofoam peanuts, but I suspect an inspiration stick of her own clobbered her when we weren't looking.

That's all it took. Suddenly, my eyes glazed over and my mouth hung open as images and characters flooded into my mind. Fruity Pebbles debate forgotten, I mumbled excuses and left the table, sat down at my computer and began to hash out the plot for A Weapon of Opportunity.

My family wasn't offended in the slightest by my sudden departure. As a matter of fact, it barely fazed them. I don't think any of them even stopped chewing. They're quite used to me by now.

It was one of the few times inspiration struck me in the form of a title. Usually it's an image wielding the inspiration stick - a photo of an exceptionally hot man, a place, or an inanimate object fueling my imagination. This time, it took only four simple words to do the trick. That might just be a record for me.

All of which leads me to a quick promotion of my new novel. Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?

In A Weapon of Opportunity, we meet Hunter, a NYC detective who has an unusual dilemma. His long-time partner, David, died during a drug bust several years ago, but that isn't really the trouble. Hunter's real problem is that David refuses to lie down and stay decently dead.

David was always annoying and pushy while he was alive, but as a ghost, he's perpetually horny as well, continually driving Hunter to distraction.

As far as David is concerned, he may be dead, but he has no intention of going anywhere. In denial all his life, dying blew the closet door wide open, forcing David to face the fact that, not only is he gay, but he's in love with Hunter. Now he'll do whatever it takes to correct his past mistakes and experience making love with Hunter, even if it's only vicariously through voyeuristic participation in Hunter's one-night stands.

Further complicating matters is a crafty, opportunistic serial killer who leaves behind a frustrating lack of physical evidence, and a small boy with an uncanny power who leads Hunter and David directly into the path of danger.

In closing, if you get whacked the inspiration stick, my advice is to just go with it. It's easier than fighting it, and in the end, may turn out to be a pretty cool thing.

But when all is said and done, I'll bet you're still thinking about having a spontaneous orgasm in a public place, aren't you?

Yeah, me, too.