Inspiration is a strange thing. Or maybe it's just that my muse has been inhaling fumes at a nail salon. Not sure why she'd be in one, seeing as how I haven't had a professional manicure since last summer (and that was after 3 years of avoiding them). I wonder if my muse has those acrylic nails? And paints them with odd designs? All I know for sure is that inspiration hits me at such odd times and with such odd bits and pieces of stories. Nothing consistent. Sometimes it's a scene she'll give me. Other times it's a character. And still others it's a theme. This morning it was an action. Margie is pacing in a hotel room. That's all the muse gave me. I have no idea why she's pacing. I have no idea what she's thinking, or getting ready to say. But she's pacing. I wonder if I can get away with describing the manner of her pacing for a page or two...