The past month or so, I’ve been having this persistently strong urge to write about a WWII B-17 tail gunner, so this week I began the story. Am ten or so pages into it. I got the urge last month or so, while stretching in the gym. I was overcome by powerful emotion about a guy shot down over Germany during a bombing run. The imagery continued to plague me, so I knew I had to do this. It was emotional, it was fearful, it was tragic. Then a short time later, while channel surfing at home, I spotted the Memphis Belle movie on TV. I didn’t bother with it (though mentally noted the synchronicity), but later that night I again crossed paths with the movie, and sat and watched it for a spell, hitting the record key. As I watched it, the last half hour, it showed a bombing run over Germany, and the scene where another B-17 in the formation was struck by a German plane that the Memphis Belle had just shot down.
This was my story. The imagery in my head that wouldn’t go away.
Hope I do it (and the gunner) justice.