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March 27, 2014 by musehick

Is it any wonder that people would talk of inspiration? A guiding force from outside themselves that moves their hand in those moments when they feel nothing driving them from within? I am not claiming that is what happens in my own creative process; there is plenty of perspiration to go along with the inspiration, but when you have the urge to dream up titles for future books on a day when a lot of other projects look close to completion, where you have not thought of book titles in a while, does it not make you smile to think of the perfect symmetry of the whole thing and the deistic patterns of the universe? No? Oh well … no harm no foul I don’t suppose.

It strikes me as kind of fitting that when evenutally the fusewire I dance along runs out and the fire goes out, it will be my final words that are reckoned, or the silence. As a writer one hopes that whatever they say is noteworthy – noteworthy for its profundity rather than its absurdity.

But anyway, that should be a long way off, one hopes. So, in the meantime, look for projects ending and projects beginning. That’s the way of things, right? Yes, it surely is.

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