A comment on my last post brought to light an interesting story which I haven’t yet told. The inspiration for my novel,Club Prism, was a night from many years ago with a group of amazing girlfriends. We were in high school and we were in the habit of driving around in my car, an old Chevy Prism, listening to music, talking, smoking cigarettes.
This was a particular night, we were five in the car, I was driving. We were messed up in the way that only teenagers get messed up. The roads were empty and the words came quickly. None of us can pin point exactly how it started, but we found ourselves creating alter egos for ourselves.
Creating isn’t exactly the right word. One had the feeling that we weren’t creating as much as re-discovering. Details easily fell into place and the connections between the characters became solidified. The center of it all and the bond between them was Club Prism.
So it began. Back then there wasn’t a story, a mystery or a plot. Only a group of stunningly original, complex, strong women. Years passed, we went off to University. We stayed friends. We all grew in our own ways and pursued our own goals. But we could never quite shake the power and magic of that night and those characters.
We found ourselves, years later, still intrigued by the alter egos. They would come up in conversations over dinner or at a bar. I felt the idea developing in my mind, to tell the story. And just like characters, it was there, without even knowing it.
I asked for my friends’ approval first. I didn’t feel right creating our story without it. When I told my friends that I wanted to turn Club Prism into a story they were both thrilled and enthusiastic.
Immortalize it, they said. And so I try.