You’ve all heard of Wisteria Lane and the lives of the Desperate Housewives.
This story is even better. It’s the story of a normal group of women, well not so normal because they’re writers, who are desperate. Okay, maybe  being a woman and desperate is pretty normal too. Wait a minute, what happened to my plot? No one wants to hear about normal women doing normal things. Do they? You might win an award for it, if you do it well, but Hell, no one will want to read it.
I’ll add a blender to kill someone with,  deep dark secrets hidden beneath every polished floorboard and a microwave possessed by the devil. That should do it.
Seriously, I’m working on plot here.
We have five women who seem normal on the outside, but who are riddled with juicy conflict on the inside. They have an assortment of men  in their lives who service their needs for plot twists. Sprinkle in children who will represent the most current of issues on demand. Note to self: start with child A – gay with homophobic Dad, child B – autistic/savant who can save the universe and child C – a victim of child sexual abuse and/or neglect who will likely abuse us all (when needed).
We’ll house them in suburbia, because so many of us live there. Do you trust your neighbor? Don’t you wonder about the hole they dug in the backyard a while back?
We’ll call their street  Visceral Crescent.  It’s a place where hedges are rarely trimmed, but every comma is edited and no grimace goes unanalysed.
Now what? How about a weekly critique group with spiked punch?
Good grief I’m running out of plot lines already.
I guess I don’t have to worry about Hollywood phoning this week:)
Of course a vampire might help.