For the last few weeks, I have, one day a week, sat on a jury. A Grand Jury. Without getting too deep into the legal aspects of it, the basic function of a grand jury (in this jurisdiction, anyway) is to review the evidence collected by law enforcement and the district attorneys and, as a panel of citizens, decide if the case goes forward to trial. If it we agree, the DAs can indict the accused and take it to trial. If not, they either have to restructure their case or drop it.
(I am sure a lawyer might read that and say I left stuff out. Well, shut up. I was close enough.)
I’ve heard people say that anyone who likes sausage and respects the law should never watch either of them being made. While it is true that I have seen a fair amount of pro forma legal maneuvering, it has been an interesting insight into how the system works, from the inside. I also got to sit next to a cute court reporter, too.
(Muse: The point, Sir. Get to the point.)
Oh yeah. It was interesting seeing the cases come in front of us. Each one had a story to be told. Sometimes the tales were simply humorous. Sometimes they were grim. I sat there and listened and a welter of ideas ran through my head, again and again until I thought my mind might burst.
That’s the point: there is no shortage of ideas out there, no end to the possibilities and stories that can be told. I think we humans are hardwired to listen to stories, whether reading it from a book, watching it on a television, or hearing it recited over a campfire – and there is no end to stories to be told.
(Muse: Uhm, the point?)
The point is: smack me if I ever say I have nothing to write about.
(Muse: What about smacking you when you don’t get off your fat lazy ass to do some work?)
Different problem altogether.
Anyway, I tapped a few of those ideas into my phone and transcribed to my story notebook. No shortage of ideas in this world. Not ever.