Bouncin' Bob's Polka Doodles

Inspiration comes in the strangest forms . . .
I'm usually not able to remember what prompted me to writecertain stories. The question arises occasionally, and I never know how toanswer it. I do recall that Mobry's Dickand Abercrombie Zombie began astitles. (The former was further fed by my fascination with the movies The Illusionist and The Prestige.) But other stories were born from some nebulous cloudof observations that stuck in my head, the contents of which I'm not consciouslyaware of.
But this one is still fresh.
Last weekend, as I lazed about reading and watching TV, I cameupon some obscure cable show called "Sissy Melznick's Polka Party." Well, thatwasn't its name —I can't remember its name—but it was similar to that. As youprobably know, cable/satellite providers usually offer some shows that havelocal appeal. Around here, we get a lot of rural fare: farm shows andfishing shows and, yes, old-time music shows that hearken back to LawrenceWelk.   Ididn't flip past the Polka Party. I actually watched it. And enjoyed it! Dancing hasbeen an integral part of my life since childhood, and the polka has been anintegral part of my dancing experience. All my relatives are dancing fools. Hell, Iprobably learned to polka right after I started walking. Among people of German or Polish heritage, the polka rules.
It's probably the happiest music in the world.


So there I sat (or half-reclined, because I was in the bedroom), watching dozens of old farts dressed to the nines skipping and shuffling arounda hall or pavilion somewhere. They were having a good ol' time. The bands themselves were pretty colorful too, in their own humble way. I couldn't stop grinning. Or keeping time with the music.
Suddenly, I knew I wanted to write about what I was seeing. 
That means Nelly Queen will be about a sweet man in his mid to late twenties with a droll, self-deprecating sense of humor who plays clarinet in a polka band. It's a local but much beloved group called Bouncin' Bob's Polka Doodles. The clarinetist, whose name is Daren or Dare, becomes smitten with another young man, Jonah, who shows up at many of the band's performances, because he dutifully serves as his grandmother's and/or great aunt's chauffeur, escort and dance partner. There'll be pain in this story, and maybe a touch of tragedy, but I hope the gentle humor will more than compensate for it. And I plan on having a very good time with the secondary characters.
There you have it. A true story of literary (I use the word loosely) inspiration. I know I don't have a winner on my hands, but when has that ever stopped me? ;-)