Venice Beach is known for its crazies.
In the space of a city block you can pass by a wannabe Captain Jack Sparrow, fat Elvis and a six-foot-tall Yoda swinging his lightsabers around. You’ll be serenaded by the Worlds Greatest Wino singing, “Jingle bells, jingle bells, help me get drunk,” every day of the year.
Guys on bikes with surfboards under their arms cruise by muscle men pumping iron and people hawking cds they burned on their computers the night before.
But if you wander just two blocks away from the boardwalk, you’ll find this. A quiet, completely unexpected little paradise hidden behind the houses.
Every novel needs to have something unexpected, something that takes our breath away and surprises us, makes us want to turn the page.
We just have to be willing to wander away from the crowd and make visible that unexpected something…