George Packard, retired schoolteacher, sat in the Beverly Hills Library and observed the minor goings-on at the check-out counter. In his heart he felt a familiar malaise. George was used to it, this malaise.
He watched the little exchanges. People returning their books, paying overdue fines. George found pleasure in watching people, but eventually would begin to fantasize and make up stories about them in his head. This was generally a bad practice. “Always remain objective if you want to be a good scientist.” George remembered a quote from a science book he had read as a youngster.
He wondered what to write for the Bumbastories As I Sat On The Bus Compendium. George had made a certain committment to Bumba. But George did not feel like writing any more. As a “roving reporter”, George felt the need for additional roving. He was on his bike that day. He went to Gardner Park.
However, the next day George took the bus
As George Packard rode on the bus, the inspiration to write swept over him like a salty ocean wave that sweeps you up and throws you toward the beach. Something called to him. Something called at him.
George would write a novel.