One thing I love about writing is that ideas never really go bad.

The first (currently trunked) full novel I ever wrote was based on a very vague memory I had of a book I wanted to write when I was about twelve. In it, a group of humans and aliens were returning to Earth after a long time away–the humans were heroes, the first of a group who were schooled with the aliens. In 2008, I remembered that brief snippet of a scene, sat down, and started writing. The final version was a little different from what I had once imagined, but it was a great illustration for me of how ideas stay viable for years. They don’t get old or stale if you don’t use them.

I’ve been hearing a lot on various agent blogs about how mermaids are “the next big thing.” I don’t know how true that is–how true any such predictions can be. But I was walking home last night, thinking about how I really should be getting started on another project as I’m querying. And then, storm clouds looming overhead, I remembered a story about mermaids (well, a merman, really) that I’d starting writing at 14. It was ninth grade–we had just read The Odyssey, and I remembered thinking about how I wanted to write what I called (in my head) a “Telemachus story,” the story of a child searching for his or her father (as a fatherless teen, I found Telemachus much more interesting than Odysseus). And I’d started writing something about a merboy named Loril, which I’d never finished.

Anyway, last night, by the time I got home, I had most of an entire plot worked out. It was exhilarating. And exciting. This morning, I sat down at my computer and banged out this:

Seas Run Dry

Mermaid. Siren. Undine. Whatever you want to call them, seventeen-year-old Loril was raised by the people of the water. But though he was born in the sea, he’s not fully of it. As the son of a human man and a mermaid, Loril is a Walker, able to travel between the two worlds, growing legs on the shore and a tail under the water. But as he nears adulthood, shifting becomes increasingly painful. Soon, he’ll have to choose.

Eighteen-year-old Irene Cleveland also faces a choice. For as long as she can remember, her family has spent their summers at the Jersey shore. Now she must decide if she’ll stay in Seaside for the year to take a permanent gig in a local bar with her band or go away to college to focus on her art. When she meets Loril—lost among mankind as he searches for his father—her choice becomes a little more complicated.

Over the course of one tumultuous week, Irene helps Loril learn about humanity and find his father. She also begins to fall for him, hard. Love is new for Loril; it’s a very human concept. But the better he gets to know Irene, the more his choice becomes clear. Until tragedy strikes, threatening to separate Irene and Loril forever.

Okay–I’ll admit that I feel a little cheesy writing (or thinking about writing) about mermaids. Jordan isn’t helping much; he keeps telling me that I should call it “Merman: The Age of Mermen.” But it’s exciting to have a new project on the table, even if it’s a very old project. It’s exciting to think that now, as an adult who knows how to finish big long book projects, I might be able to finish something I started twelve years ago.

Now I just have to write the thing.