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Inspiration strikes us all differently. Some of us feel like it rarely strikes us at all. Others feel forlorn when for once they sit down to write uninspired.
Part of my process for writing is visualization. It always has been. It's that way for everything. When I taught dance. In relationships. In life. I rehearse, replay, rewrite in my head over and over before I put pen to paper.
Like most women I work on my art in the fray. Like most writers I also make intentional time to write. And when my schedule clears unexpectedly I relish in the whisper of quiet. Silence. White space.
I don't always know where my writing will end. But when I get to that last period I know more of what I believe. I love the stories of those around me more. I find space to process my week, my life.
I stare out the window into a backyard that is much like a secret garden. Bright light wakes me up. I find inspiration in living. In nature. In the stories of those around me. But most of all in the beautiful mundane of daily life.