I’ve been finding inspiration for my writing in a strange place lately. Near my house is a trail that runs along the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Now, it’s a beautiful place and that would make sense that I would find inspiration in nature.
It’s peculiar because the inspiration only hits me when I run along the trail approximately 1.75 miles in. Yes, that is typically when my energy “poops” out and I take a break to push past the sage bushes so I can look over the steep cliff and into the blue-green water. Every time I do this—and I mean EVERY time—I suddenly get an inspirational thought about what to do next in my novel. It’s utterly amazing. I’ve considered trying to run a little farther down the trail to see if the ending of my book will suddenly pop in my head, but unfortunately the trail dead ends at a fence that borders our local nuclear power plant.
Now, those scientific-minded people would say the explanation for this unexplained inspiration must come from one of two sources:
1. By running I release endorphins which pulsate in the limbic corteal regulatory hemisphere of my brain, thus releasing creative thoughts.
2. The chemicals from the nuclear power plant are making me loopy.
Well, I don’t buy either one of those ideas. It’s obvious to me that my inspiration is coming from one source…at the end of that trail sits a little magical leprechaun hiding in the sage brush who can hear my thoughts and sprinkles me with magic dust to pulsate the limbic corteal regulatory hemisphere of my brain, thus releasing creative thoughts. Makes perfect sense.
But please don’t try to locate this magical leprechaun yourself. I’m not sure I’m willing to share this good fortune. (Though there’s probably not too many trails on the coast of California that dead end into a nuclear power plant. DOH!)
Okay, fine. Borrow my leprechaun. But save some magical dust for me. I gotta finish this book somehow!