I just had one of those weird moments where my life and my fiction collide.
Last night, as I posted yesterday, I was working very hard on my Charity Sip, which, hopefully, everyone will get to read sometime in the next few months. I'm not going to jinx myself by saying what it's about before it's even finished, but suffice it to say that a thunderstorm and a flooded road play a major part in it. I live on a road that floods occasionally from a normally pristine mountain stream that becomes a raging torrent intent on reclaiming its ancient bed, which, unfortunately, the dirt road now occupies. So last night I was trying really hard to recreate in my mind what the brook looked like, sounded like, felt like, and smelled like, when it was in flood. I mean, I was totally getting into it! I was the flood, the raging water, the icy blast, the roar, and... you get the point.
So today was a pretty mild, quiet weather day where I work, about forty minutes away. I picked my youngest daughter up at her school on the way home and let her drive, since she's got her permit and teases constantly to practice. She was just telling me what an incredible thunderstorm we'd had up this way, when we crested the brow of the hill, and I swear, out of nowhere, just the way my character experienced it last night, the road was under water before us. We were both so stunned that I had to yell at her to put the brakes on. I have never, in the twenty years we've lived here, gotten taken by surprise by a flood like this.
So as I got out of the car to access the situation, all I could think about was double checking my descriptions from last night. I was pretty close, I think. But isn't that the craziest thing?
Did we make it home? Yes. I took the wheel, and while I would never encourage anybody to drive through water, I know my road and can tell from experience when it's okay to cross and when it's not. My character made a bad decision last night, and I have no desire to repeat what he went through, thank you very much.
Then I called my husband and told him he probably ought to cancel band practice at the house tonight. I love the guys in his band, but not enough to have them for the entire weekend.
The only other time that comes to mind when something like this happened was once when I was working on a scene where the fire alarm goes off in the school where I work. As soon as I got to school the next morning, the fire alarm goes off. And then it goes off later that day, and then the next day. It seemed there was a problem with the system, and I kept thinking, "Okay, okay, I've got this now!" Then when it went off yet again the following day, I was like, "Is this my fault somehow?"
I know we writers of fiction think we control our worlds, but sometimes, one isn't so sure.