I have come to the conclusion that my brain is now inhabited by zombies. They stagger around in there all day and night, groaning about something or other, and rapidly devouring every idea which isn’t related to them.
In an email of in-depth critique to fellow blogger and new online friend, Vera, I wrote the following:
Daisy raised the Desert Eagle with trembling hands, taking aim at her husband’s forehead. No. Not her husband. The walking corpse across the lawn was NOT her husband. She squared her stance, both hands on the pistol to contain her shaking, and blinked back her tears. As he staggered towards her, she whispered through gritted teeth, “I love you,” and pulled the trigger.
And I liked it. I liked it so much, in fact, I haven’t been able to get poor Daisy out of my head for almost a week now. My mind is full of questions: How did her husband get infected? How did the zombies come to be? What is the world like? Where will she go from here? Can she find love in a zombie apocalypse? What happens next?
So I showed the little snippet to my fiancé. He, quite literally, bagan bouncing about on the couch, flailing, and shouted at me, “Where is the rest of this?! I wanna read this book! Write me the rest of this book!”
I, of course, grinned like an idiot in my pride that a little nonchalant example I’d written in a 5AM haze, had grabbed someone.
So I showed it to another friend, and another, and received similar reactions. Even when I explained that I’d like it to be a romance of some sort. I mentioned their reactions to Vera, and she too mentioned an interest in reading that book. Hell, I want to read that book.
Seeing as I want to read the book that is rapidly forming in my head, I figure I may as well write it. And maybe the book after it too. It seems to me that Daisy and her hero, whoever he might be, wouldn’t be the only ones to find love in a destroyed world with zombies, slavers, and the like around every corner.
You see, I want to write zombies no one has ever seen before. Well, maybe someone has, but I certainly haven’t. And you’re not getting any details out of me today. I want to write about crazy religious extremists, slavers, biker gangs, military contingents, cults, terrified families, resilient children, badass old folks, and one frightened woman fighting to survive her grief and the world.
I spent the better part of the last two days writing down ideas. Zombie ideas. I tell you, they won’t leave me alone. Most of my conversations, these last few days, have been about zombies. Thoughts on how they came to exist, how they function, who they should eat, who poor Daisy could meet along her journey to maybe falling in love again. And I liked every word I scribbled down; even my dinky little outline. Just yesterday I wrote more about a zombie apocalypse than I’ve managed to add to Sleeping Lady in two weeks. Now, I’m not going to abandon dear Abigail, but I’m definitely going to write this zombie book. I think I can handle concurrent works in progress.
While blogging and social networking sites have been thoroughly distracting me from working on Sleeping Lady, this may not be a bad thing. After all, I’m making about as much progress with Abigail’s story in my head as on paper. And paying too much attention to blogging did, however inadvertently, give me the idea to write zombies. And I do love zombies.
Now I just need a working title for the zombie book. Any suggestions?