• never go to bed without writing down that idea you got while dozing off. You'll never remember it in the morning
• that stray thought that seemed brilliant by the light of the moon? It may not be up to snuff come daylight

I hate to be redundant, but I cannot discount the importance of the nap. Especially after that latest story idea that popped in my head just as I was dozing off last weekend. The cool thing? It happened again!

I made just a few simple notes on the story, but it wasn't quite there yet, so I left it to percolate.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, the Muse must have been kneeling by my bed, whispering more tidbits, because my eyes snapped open and I got my trusty notebook (as per tip #1 above) and jotted down the final threads of the story.

So, my plans for the weekend include a quick outline, followed by my diving into the first draft of the story. Thankfully, all it took was a little time for my brain to conjure up more creepiness, and thus my idea didn't fall prey to the horrors of tip #2 above.

Now, to write the strange little tale. Hopefully I won't blow it

Last weekend, I dozed off on the couch. Nothing is sweeter than the afternoon nap. But our couch isn't conducive to a comfortable snooze, so after waking up and moving to my more comfortable bed, I was wide awake while my mind played over all the things I should be doing instead.

I put in my earplugs (required tools for a writer w/a snoring mate), donned my sleep mask (any writer/insomniac worth his or her salt must have one) and gave it another try.

Just as I dozed off, a strange little scene played out in my head.

And now I can't stop thinking about it.

It sneaks into my thoughts when I'm doing the dishes. Sometimes it calls to me while I'm working on another story. It just won't leave me alone.

I'm a bit afraid of this little idea. It's so not me. It's something completely different; a challenge; and like the kid who has been told to stop poking the family pet, I've got my fingers poised over my keyboard, itching to relent to the idea, to just…poke at it a little…

If you’re a writer participating in WIP Wednesday, post a link to your blog in the comments!

Fellow WIP Wednesday participants:

• Jamie Eyberg: WIP Wednesday, Kids edition
• Aaron Polson: WIP Wednesday: Four Projects of the Apocalypse
• Katey Taylor: WIP Wednesday Already?

Photo: Jakub Krechowicz

Other than a few poetry submissions to (and subsequent rejections from) Prism International, this was the first time I had sent my work out into the publishing world.

My Idea:
I came up with this idea after reading about an old superstition about eating spiders in pats of butter to ward off illness. Being arachnophobic, this both grossed me out and intrigued me. And knowing how many other people out there hate or fear spiders, I knew that this piece would definitely cause a reaction. What else can you ask for?!

The Story
This piece actually turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than I had previously thought.

700 words. That was all the room I had to tell this tale. 700 words to work in plot, character, and the right creep-to-gross-out ratio.

My first draft was double that. It started with a scene that was inspired by a middle school end-of-year party at Lori Hawthorne's house where someone killed a spider with a hammer in Lori's backyard. Ah, the memories.

That part had to be cut, unfortunately, as I realized I had to start the story much later. The good thing is I already had a vision (or should I say "heard") of exactly how the story would end. I could literally hear my own voice in my head reading the story aloud and the final line…"And when Mrs. Crawley…" well – you get the point. I can't very well post the final line here, no matter how many of you are immediately-turn-to-the-last-page-of-the-book readers. You'll just have to read it for yourself. Then let me know what you thought of it!

The Acceptance:
I found out that my story was accepted after a camping trip where our tent was bombarded with countless (seriously!) Daddy Long-legs. At the time, I was overwhelmingly terrorized by the disgusting little creatures – but in hindsight, I look at it as a sort of skin-crawling tiding of what would soon be great joy.