Lake Shore Drive, Silly.
I was thoroughly enjoying my rapid-as-I-can walk in the early autumn swamp. While passing an enviously adorable old large three-story family summer cottage, I remembered that my new (book 4) heroine, Catherine, has a date at sunset. She promised my new hero, Trevor, to meet him at this very spot. I picked up my pace to hurry home. I hadn’t written that lovely scene yet. Catherine’s still hiding in the thick underbrush watching Trevor recover from a near death shooting. His future brother-in-law mistakenly took him for a southern black bear. Right.
Should she call him? Should she text for help? Should she Google for the rate of near misses at black bears?
Of course not, it’s 1908. This is my first historical romance and if you can’t tell, I’m excited. I love writing.
“If your ship doesn’t come in, swim out to it.” Jonathan Winters
There’s not much of a connection unless you’re a writer, who lives on a lake, near the ocean, hoping to increase sales of Swamp Run, Swamp Secret and soon to be released Swamp Home. Catherine and Trevor are not titled yet, sorry.
Enough.