Two years ago, my chapter of RWA hosted a retreat for whoever could make it to a plantation south of New Orleans. We’d done it in years past at another plantation upriver, and it was time for a change. I’m not sure it was a good change, but the trip did inspire a story that’s will be published by The Wild Rose Press.
We began our evening at the plantation by finding our rooms, which were scattered all over the place. Some were in the big house. Others were in what was probably once the caretaker’s plain home, and still another group were in an elevated modern house. We settled in, saying hello to our roommates and getting the lay of the land, which included a few rooms with sketchy latches on the doors. When we convened in the former chapel turned dining hall and bar, we all had a tidbit to tell about our rooms. Some were happy. Others were rather less so. Eh, I thought. We’re way down where no one cares.
We forgot all about our rooms when a certain friend of mine pointed out the four rather handsome men enjoying dinner at the next table over. They all had suntanned or sunburned necks, fishing shirts, and boat shoes. They were four men on a weekend away from whatever, whether it be wives, girlfriends, bad jobs, or a family reunion. My friend mentioned something. My brain got to twirling, and a little while later, I mapped out a plot.
This is where I admit to having more ideas for stories than I have time to write them. So, Wright Place, Wrong Bed languished into skeleton plot land until I finished some other projects, moved from New Orleans, and set up a new life in Florida. Yet, I completed it, and now I’m dealing with edits.
If there’s a message to this story, I would say that it is to look for inspiration wherever you go and to keep with your ideas. They will eventually bear fruit.