Last year, I wrote a short story and asked a good friend to read it. I chose her because she likes vampires and romance and all of that fun stuff.
The story contained the first sex scene I’d ever written, so I was a little nervous sharing it. She gave me her feedback about the plot and the writing–mainly positive–and suggested some parts that needed to be fleshed out. A few weeks later, she confessed that she had let her husband read it and that I should feel free to send any similar stories her way because they had the best sex ever. I was a little embarrassed and a little proud.
After that, I realized that the story was actually part of a much bigger story, and it became the first chapter in my current WIP. As I worked to capture the rest of the story, I forgot about our conversation until a couple months later, when my friend announced that she was nine weeks pregnant.
She and her husband have been trying to get pregnant since they got married three years ago. One of the biggest obstacles was finding time for sex–they work different schedules, so the weekends are the only time they are both awake and raring to go at the same time. I am glad that I gave them a little inspiration to reach their goal. But still a little embarrassed.