During the pandemic, I was part of a bubble of six friends. It’s what we did in British Columbia. Groups of six were our legal limit and well, for the most part, we’re a law-abiding bunch. One night as we gathered for yet another bonfire, I sat in my camp chair nursing my ever-present glass of wine and wondered what would happen if we weren’t so well behaved. How much chaos would follow, say, a stray kiss? 

That one question was the key that unlocked the imaginary world of my newly finished novel, The Fragile Bubble, which revolves around three couples whose idyllic lakeside lives fall into chaos during the pandemic.

Ever the rule-follower in real life, I love both the plotting and planning novel writing requires and the freedom it offers my imagination to run wild. Note: Not one of The Fragile Bubble’s characters reminds me of anyone in my little pandemic pod. Except of course, like all my fiction, a little piece of me is in everyone.