Thinkingdog Publishing

  I once read that inspiration strikes like lightning. That’s a lie. At least for me. Inspiration sneaks up on me like a cat deciding whether to knock over a glass of water. It circles, it considers, it waits until I’m in the shower with no access to a notebook and then it pounces. So where does my inspiration come from? Well, buckle up, because it’s a weird and wonderful mix. First, there’s nature. And not just in a “how poetic, the whispering pines” kind of way. No, I mean nature nature . The kind where I go on my daily walks and see a squirrel making direct eye contact with me while committing crimes against a bird feeder. Or when a branch creaks ominously in the wind, and I’m instantly imagining a Victorian ghost lady pointing toward a hidden clue. Or that one time I saw a crow drop an acorn directly on a jogger’s head, and I started wondering if animals hold grudges. And speaking of animals, let’s talk about the real queen of my inspiration: my Papillon dog. My tiny, f...