Being a writer can be... interesting.

Walking down the street and watching people go about their day-to-day life, but thinking strange, even dangerous things.

I still clearly remember the day I stood at the traffic lights in downtown Melbourne. There she was, sitting in her car, waiting for the lights to change green. Tapping her fingers impatiently.

Something inside my head went off. Kaboom! An idea formed, and became the beginning of a novel.

Instead of sitting patiently at the lights, she was nervous, extremely anxious as she was being pursued by killers. The next thing she knew, an angry, crazy man was slamming her windscreen with a sledgehammer and she was running for her life.

Yes, the life of a writer is quite unique.