Yesterday, I left my house. Since I’ve been writing seriously, that’s something that happens less and less. My husband and I were invited to spend a few hours up in the mountains and we accepted. It’s so peaceful up there, and I always imagine what my life would be if I could stay permanently. Would the surroundings remain as inspirational as I imagine or would I soon take it all for granted?
It’s not that I don’t get an abundance of story ideas down here in the smoggy valley, and the stories form in my head, not in the crystal clear air. Staring at a computer screen is the same whether outside is a pine forest or city streets. So, I expect, it’s an empty excuse when I tell myself I could be a better writer, if I lived somewhere inspiring.
Life is inspiration, wherever it happens, wherever it takes you. Gorgeous scenery can make your heart sing. It can make your spirit soar. It can make your Muse pour forth streams of beautiful words. But if you write about people, if you write about relationships, a scene like the one below—a landscape of the heart—can trump all others.
Linda Cassidy Lewis 
Waht you wrote about the lame excuse you tell yourself that you could be a better writer if you lived in an inspiring place reminds me of myself haha. And casually, I was just looking at the posts in my blog and found one that I wrote a little while ago following a spontaneous spark of inspiration that I didn’t want to let go. That reminded me of what I was trying to do (and, sadly, I haven’t done this days….) been aware of every possible inspiration, from a calm breeze shaking the top of the trees that can take you to another place (not literally) to a picture that popped out on the Internet that can tell you a whole story by itself (like your pictures 🙂 )… I hope I can retake that awareness very soon. Because it’s hard to me to get out of the city whenever I want u.u
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Being aware is part of living in the moment, dcow92, and I do hope you capture that again soon. Open your eyes and …
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