Most writers I know don't like to talk about a work-in-progress - or even an idea about a book.
Superstitious or something.
I have a little note on my computer where I have jotted down some of the really really really really hazy thoughts/images/characters/phrases/places that are s-l-o-w-l-y percolating.
I have always worked like this. Some of those jottings eventually disappear into the cosmos - but many of them come together, hold hands, do a jig, and become a book.
Here are some of the notes of my really really really really really hazy ideas/images yada yada yada:
It had never snowed in Carter, Georgia. Not once.
a mountain to the north
an ocean to the south
in the middle was a one-whistle town (train)
finds crate of novelty items
Lives over the dry cleaners
Owen Jester tiptoed across the gleaming linoleum floor and slipped the frog into the soup.
It swam gracefully under the potatoes, pushing its froggy back legs through the pale yellow broth. It circled the carrots and bumped into the celery and finally settled beside a parsnip, its bulging eyes staring unblinkingly up at Owen.
[Note: Please do not contact PETA. The soup is not hot, people, okay?]
Itchy and Scratchy
[Those are names that have popped into my head. Catfish and Squirrel were REAL people I met in the Waffle House in Simpsonville, South Carolina. Itchy and Scratchy are dogs.]