Getting Into the Role

Like most authors, I knew I wanted to write from the time I was a kid.  I don't remember if I wrote mysteries back then--though I definitely enjoyed reading and watching them--but I did something else that was very indicative of my future writing projects.  I used to pretend that any car following me at night was the "bad guy" to my role as "hero."

I did this more as a kid riding in the back of my mom's car, and not so much as an adult, but a couple weeks ago, I found myself treating a car that was behind me as though it were actually following me; like they were my "tail" or something. 

As a kid, my brother and I would duck our heads down in the seat, so any car "following" us couldn't see us.  Sometimes we'd even pretend they were shooting at us, and we'd shoot back through the window with the "hand" guns that every kid uses.  We would keep an eye on the car behind us, and when they turned off, we'd pretend that we had successfully evaded them.

In my teen years, this morphed into some sort of spy game whenever I was home alone.  Except for the killing part, I always thought I'd make a great spy, and I would enter rooms in the house with my arms outstretched, the hair dryer my gun.  I would scan the room efficiently and then back myself against the nearest corner or wall, like you see in cop and spy shows.

I haven't done either of those things in over 20 years, so it was interesting that I reverted to my childhood game recently.

It was really early in the morning this time, rather than at night, and I was on my way to work.  The sun had risen, but it was early enough that the road hadn't become too clogged with parents driving children to school.  In fact, I had a mile-long stretch of back road all to myself, until the car began following me.

Now, in truth, it probably wasn't following me at all, it just happened to be going the same way I was, but each time I made a turn, so did my tail.  When I finally encountered another car and passed it, so did the car behind me.  In fact, the driver kept so close that at one point the conspiracy theorist in me stopped thinking it was a game.

As I neared the last stoplight before my office, I saw it turning yellow.  I made sure I went fast enough that I sailed through the light, and my tail had to stop and wait.  Then I even decided to take a different path through the parking lot, in case my pursuer caught up before I could hide my car among the others already parked.

In truth, if said car really HAD been following me, I'm sure s/he would've gotten my license plate, which would've exposed my ruse for the child's play that it was.  However, the kid in me reveled in the thought that I'd successfully ditched my pursuer.  I felt that same elation that I had in the back seat of Mom's car whenever my brother and I would successfully evade the bad guys.  It probably ties in somehow with the notion of "You never feel more alive than when you've faced death" (I probably don't have the wording right, but you get the gist).  Even an imaginary accomplishment like that can make you feel great about yourself.

I'm sure I'm not the only mystery writer who does that sort of thing.  So please share your adventures with us.