I've always marveled at how life comes through with inspiration for how to solve artistic problems. Whether it's snatches of dialogue overheard on the street or plots lifted from life, my experience is that answers are more readily available outside of my head than in it.
After yesterday's little backstory on my early days with Mr. Green, I thought you might be interested in a more recent story which may explain why he's my co-writer and inspiration.
Mr. Green teaches Organic Chemistry to undergraduate and graduate students. He used to also do basic research. I never took science beyond high school biology and am generally less than ignorant about the workings of the natural world. It's very convenient to be married to Mr. Wizard. For the past ten or more years, Mr. Green has written a syndicated (and here) monthly blog which decodes science for non-scientists on subjects likes fracking, the causes of and cures for depression, global warming, etc.
As Mr. Green searches through journals for fresh topics, he tries the ideas out on who ever is in the house. I'm usually in the house and if not, I'm not far. I'm also always under pressure to spend more time on twitter, to make more skit videos, to clean the house, etc.
The other day, Mr. Green was on fire about serotonin, the subject of this month's post. Did I mention that my husband has been a professor for almost fifty years? We were finishing up lunch and I could tell that he was just getting going, that he had absorbed a lot of material and that I might not get anything done for the next half hour if I didn't make my move. At the end of his sentence, I nodded emphatically as I sprang to my feet, practically shouting "Really interesting!" and bolted for the door. I unconsciously used a trick I'm aware of for holding onto myself and not getting sucked into other peoples' agendas: I didn't look my husband in the eye. Or maybe I did but for just a fraction of a second. The image that stays with me is of his face in shock.
Within fifteen minutes, there was a knock on my studio door. Mr. Green looked amused: "You left in the middle of the lecture! I've never had to chase a student down to finish a lecture!"
