One night, Phantom of the Opera was playing on stage. I was the building maintenance man at the time, checking the equipment in the sub-basement. And a thought popped into my head. I bet I could create a story about a theater. About that time, something moved from underneath a tarp, and the story flew up and hit me in the face.
Over and over, the opening scene played in my mind, consuming my thoughts both awake and asleep. So, I wrote it down just to get it out of my head. That night, I dreamed the next page, and I wrote that down. Every day and night, this kept happening, never realizing I was writing a book; The writing was therapy, releasing the horror that was consuming my reality.