Sometimes ideas arrive at the darndest times. I don’t know if it is confined to me and my quirkiness but out of the blue I will get an idea that, if properly followed up, will most certainly propel my career. Of course the opportunity to seize the moment is not practical because I am in the midst of negotiating a freeway entrance, or browsing the canned vegetable aisle. Excuse me madam may I borrow the back of your grocery list to scribble down a brilliant epiphany? Why does inspiration tickle my fancy when I am unable to scratch? My Muse has a definite sadistic bent. Often inspiration will strike in the middle of the night only to diffuse in the light of dawn. Once , only once, I was so motivated by a subliminal plot trail that I got out of bed and scribbled down my random thoughts while still relatively coherent. In the morning it actually still made sense and was a great end to a chapter which had plagued me for weeks.
If writing was not such a joy why would anyone engage it?
Brock's Book Blog 
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