The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Me and Henny Penny, we’re like BFFs.  It’s the end of the world and we know it.  It’s coming today, I’d bet my life on it.

 Evidence to case in point:
  1. Monday night 5.3 earthquake. Felt it, check. 
  2. Last Saturday night, we felt another earthquake. 
  3. Two Saturdays ago, I’m working out with a friend and check, felt another. (It’s almost like a bad prom date.) 
  4. Then a month ago, the big one hit, 6.3. The house shook for a full 30-40 seconds. That’s a long time in earthquake years. 
  5. Finally, I am not prepared.

Yep, you heard me.  I am not prepared.
If electricity fails and the water shuts off,
I’m screwed. 

As you guys may or may not know, I am writing a dystopian book, where a bleak future demands the survival of the fittest.  I’m writing this type of book because it is a deep-seated fear that has been growing inside of me since the first time I saw THE DAY AFTER, a 1983 movie about life, the day after a nuclear war.  Not long after, I was old enough to watch MAD MAX (It came out in 1979 but I wasn’t allowed to watch it because I was only…ahem, let’s just say too young.) 

Needless to say, whether you play on my nuclear fears as a child or the aids virus in the 90’s with OUTBREAK or mess with my zombie phobias in I AM LEGEND (Go Will Smith!), I fear a dystopian future.  

When I started my book, I had an idea for it to be 10 years after a cataclysmic event.  I wasn’t quite sure why my "event" took place until now.  Thanks to the recent earthquakes and BP’s major F-up [CAN WE PLUG THE HOLE ALREADY!] I have a reason for my dystopian future.

And I got scared.
My theory not only sounded possible, but plausible. 

So yesterday I spent the day organizing the garage and clearing off a huge wire shelf.  Thursday, I’m stocking it up, getting ready for the end of the world.  But today is a writing day, so I will keep my fingers crossed that my plan to run errands tomorrow does not cause the end of the world today.

Laugh at me all you want, but when you guys come knocking on my door for help, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.

What, in the real world, inspires your story?