The reason so many writers live in New York is because every time you step outside inspiration steps in front of you. You can't go more than a few blocks without seeing or hearing someone or something that has the potential to trigger an epic idea for your next novel or short piece.
And then there's the people you meet - people from all around the world, making their way through the city. Some for a short visit, others for months, or more than 52 weeks. And each person arrives with a rich story in hand - David from Israel, Sabatina from Germany, Leonardo from Mozambique, Retika from India, Ace from New Zealand, and Moses who came up from West Virginia to Occupy Wall Street.
But at the moment I'm far from NYC and inspiration jumping at me is few and far in between. I'm less than a week in to my return to rural, middle of nowhere, Michigan. Today I sulked that the greatest inspiration my county had to offer me was a post church trip to the most popular store in our county's seat - Walmart of Adrian.
Starbucks offered me a spark of normalcy, as I picked up a venti Pike and a pastry before driving 14.2 miles through winding country roads, to get to where I needed to be. Home.
And since I'm here for the time being, and new inspiration isn't shooting up at me. I'll pause from blogging for the time being and instead finish the book writing work God has started in me.