Go with it

"Jimmy threw the empty beer can out the window and reached into the back seat, fishing for his gun. . . ."

And so begins another novel of mine. My brain was stalling out on making King So'osolopo's problems seem noteworthy and interesting and this other completely-unreleated first sentence pops into my head. Twenty-seven pages later, I actually have a plot and a bunch of characters who are doing things on their own without consulting me. It's almost like watching tv. Except it takes longer. But Naraka is on hold for now--at least until I figure out who's gonna kill Jimmy. Because, really, he's a jackass.