During the preceding months, my mother had been in declining health, a combination of dementia, arthritis and cancer. My sister and I had cleaned out her house before its sale, and we found mementos of her fascination with carousels. Scrapbooks of trips to area carousels, books about the history and the carousel designers, and recordings of original carousel band organ music. I took it all home to sort through later.
In the back of my mind are the carousels. Stirring around are ideas for a romance, the contest guidelines, everything I have learned about new adult readers. All of this quietly mixes in my subconscious.
It's a beautiful, crisp early Spring morning in Michigan. As I have for several years, I'm driving on a fairly deserted piece of Ford Road between Canton and Ann Arbor. It's a familiar drive, so part of my mind floats to think about the upcoming contest.
Suddenly I feel a movement within me, soft and subtle, as if warm chocolate is slowly flowing through me. As I'm driving, the entire plot of CAROUSEL MAGIC forms whole in my mind. I know that the heroine will be named "Ginger" and the hero, "Tom". I know that Ginger is the mayor of a small town in Western Pennsylvania, and she is determined to save a vintage carousel. I know that Tom is a developer who has purchased the amusement park where the carousel stands. And he has decided that the carousel will not be part of the newly renovated park.
There is conflict. There is delightful setting. There is history. There is the potential for love.
Never before, and never since, have I experienced such direct guidance from the Spirit in my writing. When I arrived at work, I made quick notes of everything that had come to me in the car. When I got home, I began outlining the characters and plot. I finished the draft and several revisions over the next three weeks, writing whenever I could grab a few minutes. My critique group read it, gave their comments and I rewrote.
I submitted it five weeks after that first inspiration.
And then I waited.
