There’s a mischievous boy who’s been visiting me lately. He comes in the quiet of the night, between crawling in bed and falling asleep.
His name is Will, middle name Trouble. And I’m thinking that Will might just be my next middle-grade novel. He’s funny and bad, and he makes me laugh. And anyone who can make me laugh gets at least a literary try from me. Maybe Will and I will go somewhere and maybe we won’t. But I’m sure going to have fun trying.
When do ideas come to you? Any particular time or just whenever?