This morning, after yet another dental appt, we went to a breakfast café in the upper crust section of town, little imagining the effect it would have on a young woman’s story.
I don’t normally eavesdrop, but the lady at the table next to us caught my ear when she started ordering.
She didn’t like anything on the menu and just wanted a tomato, lettuce, and cheese sandwich. (What? Why not a BLT? Is this a new trend? The CLT! er, I can see why that might be a bad idea…)
When given bread choices, she asked if the rye had seeds and after being told yes, quietly ruminated before settling on the ciabatta. Then she asked if they had sprouts.
“Hoity-toity” came to mind, and I almost wanted to go sit at her table and observe everything about her. She just stuck out, and I knew she’d make a great character.
But I don’t write stories with hoity-toity women in them.
When we got home, I told my husband about my experience, and he mentioned the rom-com idea I’ve been working on. (Charity Girl)
A mother who’s an over-bearing health nut would easily drive my heroine into the predicament in which she now finds herself. Sweet!
So, my new character has found a home, and my charming, overweight heroine has a monumental complication.