Thursday, August 1, 2013

Oh Boy! 3 AM!

It’s the kind of thing you hear about. It’s the kind of thing that makes you want to puke.

Inspiration. Fine and dandy if it comes to you, smug if it comes to others. And in such ways it comes to them. Like this:
So here's the dream that had me awake a few minutes before the alarm this morning: Two feuding New England towns, divided by the ice trade that plies the lake that lies between them, are giddy with delight as the feud nears an end due to the impending marriage that will join the two rival ice houses. There is ice skating and rabbit raising for all -- until he returns. He, of the black suit, thin mustache and uncompromising nature, is the one who terrorized the bride-to-be as a child by daily smearing her with his peanut-butter-encrusted fingers (I know the historical timing is a bit off, can't help that) way back in grade school. His presence in town upsets the wedding plans, thaws the ice and causes the rabbits to go all runty. Will the towns' plan to run him out on a rail succeed before their villages are back to feuding? Will he once again smear the bride-to-be? Or will they go off to raise rabbits of their own?
It’s also a musical.
Of course, since I’m fine and dandy with this, you bet your boots this inspiration came to me.
Now, where did it come from?
Partly this. One of my favorite documentaries, all about the cold, including a bit on Frederic Tudor, the so-called “Ice King,” who pioneered commercial ice delivery by harvesting ice off ponds in frozen New England. He became one of America’s first millionaires when being a millionaire meant something. So that’s in the background.
I’m not sure where the peanut-butter came from.
So yes I’m going to write this. Not now; I’ve got other projects in the hopper. Nice to have an idea in the can, though.

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