“Where do
you get your ideas?”
It’s the
question every writer hates. (Well, I kind of hate “Have I read anything you’ve
written” even more, because how stupid a question is that? Do I look like a mind reader?!)
The fact
is, it’s hard to pinpoint where an idea came from. It can be as vague and
fleeting as a song lyric or an offhand comment or a painting or even something
I’ve read. Not in the sense of plagiarizing, of course—in the sense of sparking
a completely different idea. ::cue brain whooshing sideways::
Themed
anthologies are always a challenge. A fun challenge, but a challenge
nonetheless. Kate Wilhelm said that you should throw out the first three ideas
you come up with, because those are what everyone else will think of. At the
same time, though, you can’t go too far off from the theme, or your story won’t
fit the anthology.
For
example…
- Where the Girls
Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica: I figured everyone was going to pick New York, Los
Angeles, London, or Paris. I grabbed Montreal. Go me!
- Rubber Sex: I wrote about a retro bathing
cap, rather than rubber suits or rubber underwear, or, well, you know.
- Sex on the Move: my coauthor* and I threw out
planes, trains, and automobiles, and set our story in the back of a Brinks
truck. Seriously.
So when
it came to brainstorming for Lesbian Cops:
Erotic Investigations, I immediately nixed the idea of a character getting pulled over for
speeding…or, for that matter, anything involving a character getting arrested
(whether for real or pretend). I
pondered for a while without having any idea spark for me, although I did cross
the street in front of a police car and spent far too long ogling the pretty
Hispanic female officer at the wheel.
The
question really came down to, how do the cop and her (sexual) partner know each
other?
That’s
when a I remembered a real-life, inspiring story.
A few
years ago, my best friend’s daughter heard about police dogs who needed special
harnesses. With the help of her mom, her teacher, and the other girls in her
fifth-grade class, they raised money to pay for the equipment.
Dudes. Dudes. How awesome is that? My friend is raising her
daughter so well.
Obviously
I tweaked some details (I changed the daughter’s name to Ashley, plus my best
friend is not a single-mom lesbian—I imagine her husband would be surprised if
she were—and I upped the ante by having the fundraiser be for bullet-proof
vests for the police dogs), but the sentiment was the same: Kids can surprise
you and rock your world with their generous hearts. At the same time, it’s hard
to navigate any new relationship when you have a child…something my characters
had to figure out.
Oh, and
the real-life Ashley? She’s now a GBLT activist at her high school.
Awesome.
---
Here’s a completely
safe for work excerpt from my story, “Charity and Splendor”:
We enlisted the help of Ashley’s
teacher, Mr. Schindling, and the other dog-crazy girls in her class. The girls
brainstormed ways to make money, came up with a logo, brought the enthusiasm. I
agreed to handle the aspects the girls couldn’t: opening a Paypal account, for
example, and sending a press release to the local paper.
But all that was after I called
the police department and set up an appointment for Ashley and I to meet with
the head of the K-9 unit.
“Rosa Mendez,” she said, holding
out her hand.
“Monica Westberg.”
We shook briefly, and then she led
us to a small office.
She had that cop demeanor, not
quite militaristic, but still with squared shoulders, no-nonsense expression,
and clipped speech. It’s not that she was unfriendly—hey, even the cops that
had pulled me over once (okay, maybe twice) for speeding had been polite when
they’d handed me my ticket—but she was businesslike to the extreme. Just a
quick smile for Ashley.
Everything changed, though, when I
let Ashley explain why we were there.
It was the smile that did me in.
The astonished grin that blossomed across her face, the dimple on the left
side, the flash of light in her dark eyes. “Are you serious?” she said.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Of course,
we won’t do anything without the full support of the department.”
“We’d be insane not to,” Rosa
said. “Ashley, you are an extraordinary young woman.”
Ashley blushed and ducked her
head, and I liked Rosa even more.
We talked about getting some
information and materials from her about the K-9 program, and then she asked if
we’d like to meet Duke, the dog who’d been shot.
I thought Ashley was going to
vibrate out of her anime hoodie at the very prospect.
Duke was hanging out with the
other dogs that weren’t out on patrol with their handlers, although he had a
private enclosure since he was recovering. His tail started wagging as soon as
he saw Rosa, and if she’d had a tail, it would’ve wagged, too.
She talked about Duke with deep
affection, and I heard her voice quaver once before she cleared her throat and
mentioned the surgery he’d gone through. She kept the details fuzzy for
Ashley’s sake.
And all the while I was thinking, Dammit,
I have the worst timing when it comes to crushes.
Well, this was going to be
awkward.
---
Want more
insights into the stories that appear in Lesbian Cops:
Erotic Investigations? The contributors are blogging for the first half of April about
their stories, about hot policewoman, about uniforms…you name it, we’re talking
about it!
