The story of the Virgin Detective started with one simple visual: a yellow jacket floating in the water by the Seattle ferry dock. It was summer time and I was waiting to board the boat. As I stared at the jacket wrapped around a pillar, my mind started to wander with the most absurd thoughts. Like how many murder cases occurred near the docks? How many went unsolved and what kind of killer hot sauce was inside the burrito I was eating that made my eyes roll back in my head. As my eyes and nose continued to run like faucets, I wondered if, well, hot sauce cleared your sinuses to the point where you could smell just about anything. Even the dead body in the water floating not far from his or her yellow jacket.
That was the start of the Virgin Detective. A simple random sighting while waiting for the ferry wound up being a novel nine months later.
Jacket plus hot sauce equals novel. I guess random acts are never as inconsequential as you may think.
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