I was looking at a very peaceful location deep in the inland waters of southern Long Island NY. The vivid green of the marsh grass contrasted brilliantly with the light blue sky and the deep blue waters. The sun played a melody, which wove these natural tapestries into a very inspiring atmosphere. And what was my inspired thought –“I wonder if I could hide a dead body in the grass or would it float out at high tide?”
I worry about me sometimes. Everything seems to turn into a plot in a book.
Talking to a friend about an Irish police chief he once knew who danced an Irish jig when he was under pressure. Yep, that character worked his way into my book Signal 30.
My wife shared some thought she had on Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) and that conversation turned into my book PSYCH.
Went on a beautiful trip to Mexico and the beach ended up in a new book I am writing.
I’m happy to be inspired, but I often wish I could just enjoy what is going on without trying to make it a book. Wait – maybe I could write about someone who writes a blog and then ends up living out everything he writes – oh, oh. Just did it again.
Any thoughts on inspiration?