I haven’t been able to do more than five lines of writing this whole week, because work has been eating me alive. But every morning, on my drive in, my mind wanders back to the stories I’m working on. There have been times I thought of something for a story that moved me to tears, which is very awkward, when you’re going to work. Sometimes, I have to park my car, and not only refocus, but dab at my eyes so I don’t get a long line of coworkers asking if I’m okay. I suppose the music has a lot to do with it. That, and the thirty minute commute. I listen to music that inspires me. So naturally, thirty minutes of being inspired by music will have that effect.
But today, the inspiration I needed came from another source.
It was the rain.
After such a long dry spell, with lightning starting a fire not far from my home, and filling the air with smoke, the sudden full swing from summer into autumn was dearly needed, and quite welcome. While I parked my car at the store where I usually drop in to grab my lunch, I opened the door, and that glorious scent of petrichor hit. It made me pause, and I breathed in again. Nice and deep. With an exhale that was almost reverent in its release. It was so good. And as I started to make my way in, thinking about the rain, inspiration hit. I had been stuck puzzling over something I needed to figure out for the next book I will be tackling, and the rain provided the answer.
No, I can’t say what it is. That would be spoiling.
But still, it goes to show, inspiration can and will come from any direction if you are open to it.
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