When the muse comes calling, you’d better answer.

From October 4, 2011:

This is weird.
I started a new story today. I was searching the net for something related to day of the dead. Found a connection to the Aztecs which led me to a connection to psychopomps. Psychopomps are sometimes depicted as whippoorwills. Finding that connection reminded me of being down south in Bumpus Creek, AL at my Grandma’s house listening to dry flies, bull frogs, bob whites, and whippoorwills. Also reminded me (like, simultaneously) of the Hank Sr. song, I’m so Lonesome I Could Cry. So I outlined in 3 acts a story about a rum runner caught between life and living in prohibition era Alabama. By the way, my dad’s brother Buddy used to run ‘shine two decades after prohibition ended.
Anyway, I’m checking Facebook later this afternoon and I see a pic posted by one of my cousins – it’s my uncles and my dad goofing around back in the day down south. Now, this wouldn’t be weird normally but I have not seen anyone post any old pics of my southern family – old days or otherwise. Its a sign from the muse, I’m sure of it.

I wrote a chapter or two. In 2-1/2 years, I’ve written a chapter or two. I’d better get back to it.

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