Where do you get your ideas?

By and largethis is number one on the list of authors' frequently asked questions. Andthere are, of course, as many different answers as there are authors. Citedoften is music lyrics, overheard conversations, other movies, other books. Almostanything, anything, can get a writer'sfertile imagination going—especially if said author is currently deep in thebowels of writing a another story.
When I'm inthe sagging middle of a manuscript and every word is another drop of O-negativeon the page, each minute at the keyboard akin to a month of Saturday afteroonsat Chuck E. Cheese, that's when it strikes. Staring at the computer screen,  wondering why I'm even bothering to write thisstupid, conflict-less story that I'm pretty sure sucks and which no one intheir right mind would ever pay actual money for, I—wait, what's that? That glintover there. Oooh, it's so pretty. No, don'tlook, you have to finish this story,warns my inner voice. But, it's so bright, sooo shiny, sooooo perfect…Damn.
Bright Shiny.That's what Emily, Tracy and I call them, these new ideas that call to us whenwe're writing. They're exciting, seductive and so, so dangerous, kind of likethat guy--you know that guy: the hot one with the motorcycle and the sexy tatooon his shoulder who drinks and smokes Reds and your mama would absolutely dieif she knew you're were dating him, but you just can't say no to his soft babyblues.
Except inthis case your mama is your editor. And you have a mind-crushing deadline withno room for a one-night stand, much less the torrid affair you're actuallycontemplating. Not to tell tales out of school, but Tracy's notorious for findingBright Shinys the second after she's sold a new book and has a firm deadline. Emilylost four writing days and gave forty pages to one before we were able to stopher (and that's just the days/pages we know about). Me? Well, we'll get tothat.
The realproblem with a Bright Shiny, see, is there's absolutely no way to protectoneself from them. They can come from anywhere, anything, anytime (all real-life examples): Two linesfrom a random song as I'm flipping through radio stations.An overheardcell phone conversation while I'm waiting in line at Chipotle.Spying Observing a blind date at Starbucks.Myhoroscope.A fortunecookie.A blog post.A tweet.Amisdirected text…
That's howit happened to me. March 12th. Saturday. Up till then I'd beencompletely immersed in the world-building/researching/procrastinating on a complicatedreincarnation story that I've been wanting to write for a while, but on which Icouldn't gain any real momentum. My phone buzzed me awake at the ungodlyweekend hour of 6:40 AM. A text. Then another. From a number I didn'trecognize.
The demons are fierce.I hope u r having a safe day. I needyour help.
Seriously? Icouldn't just let something like that get away. I saw a boy. I saw a girl. Isaw a demon straight out of the inferno. Reincarnation story back on the shelf…BrightShiny here I come.  It's nowmy current work-in-progress. Yeah, it's lost some of it's initial luster—they alldo. But, I'm plowing ahead, staying the course, word by word, scene by scene,day after—hey, what's that over there?