A Rustling in the Bushes
Well, here we are again. I had honestly begun to think it wouldn’t happen any more. It’s so easy to tell other writers that their muses haven’t abandoned them. It’s just a dry patch. You’ve got a lot going on in your life. It’s tough times for everyone. We’ve been through hell the last few years. The creativity will come back! Telling yourself that, though–no, that’s easy too. But believing it? Now that’s hard. Once upon a time, story ideas tackled me frequently. The kind of ideas that would grab me by the shoulders, or maybe the neck, and shake, demanding to be written. It hasn’t happened in a long time. Like, a really long time. Oh, I’ve had ideas, like maybe once or twice a year. And sometimes I even wrote them. But they weren’t the kind that pounced me like Tigger or Hobbes would do. Maybe the ideas that jump me like that aren’t better–in fact they probably aren’t better than something I’ve really thought through–but dammit, they are fun. And it’s happened. A great loud song I’ve heard a hundred times collided with a picture of a smartass redhead (have you noticed I have a thing for smartass redheads? Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention.) and an unrelated news story in my head, and BAM! KD is flat on the floor under a very self-satisfied tiger. via GIPHY Looks like I’m in for some fun coming up, and I’m quite excited about it. I’m poking writer friends…