An idea eludes my pen… skips sullenly into shadowy places where I cannot go, and refuses to be teased back into the light. Some days it’s like that. I sigh, resigned, and move on to hunt down a fresh one.
In the newness of my exploration I bemoan the continued barrenness. Where to go from here? Eyes closed, mind emptied, I search among the rough, undefined thoughts, until in the most unlikely of places, a tiny idea blooms.
How it arrived and survived without nourishment or nurture is a mystery but I focus on it with thanksgiving, and begin writing again.
Sometimes we look in the wrong places for inspiration. Do you always find your ideas in emotionally rich surroundings? Or do they also reveal themselves in bleak landscapes?