"In every outthrust headland, in every curving beach, in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth"---Rachel Carson

I’ve been visiting here since I was 4 years old and still this beach works magic on my psyche. At least, it feels like magic.

I don’t wait to be struck by lightning and don’t need certain slants of light in order to write. –Toni Morrison

Certain slants definitely act as lightning strikes for me. This particular light and I bonded. What came into my head as I powerwalked surprised and reminded me not to shove my mental papers under my mental carpets (they are mostly Victorian, paced to threadbare and permanently stained) when feeling overwhelmed, but to have faith in my imagination’s addiction to surprise parties. If I’d been at home (in my bedroom office typing away as the dog snored next to me, the usual threat of housework looming) instead of hoofing it along my beach into a challenging headwind, I’m not sure the same imagination-information would have come to me—or at least not as quickly as it did.

I’ve always disliked words like inspiration. Writing is probably like a scientist thinking about some scientific problem, or an engineer about an engineering problem. –Doris Lessing.

She’s right—especially when dissecting/creating/tweaking plot. But to feel excitement while waiting for something ordinary to ignite the sky with color—the mesmerizing quality of an evolving vista—what a sunset over ocean can produce in me?

Inspiration is definitely the word (take that you old synapsing, chemically attracting, brain affecting negative ions gone mad!), morphing into ideas that write themselves.

Mwahaha

Treasure.

Of course I keep coming back for more.