A Writer’s Exercise: Foggy Inspiration

Fog on a summer’s night mesmerizes.
From the time it rolls in until the sun burns it off, I imagine all
sorts of possibilities.




People always ask from where I get my
inspiration. The answer is simple. Most of the time, I look out my
window.




I watch the fog hug the streetlamp,
then reach to kiss the window’s screen. Eventually it fills the
void between the buildings, shrouding the brick and clapboard in a
hushed whisper.




The sky begins to lighten. A blue-gray
glow settles into the mountains. Retreating into the valley, the fog
leaves a shiny roof that reflects the light of the newly liberated
streetlamp.




Headlights pierce through the dense air
before plunging into the valley. They emerge with a heightened
Doppler effect, which barges through my window.




A still breeze rocks the opened blinds
gently. Spreading a chill, it mocks summer. I pull my covers over
my head.




In my writing, I often use what lurks
outside my window. I made a mist only Declan could see. My heroes
wade through an unfamiliar fog laden valley that hides fears just
beyond their view.




The elements creep into my books to set a mood or
to create obstacles. What is real can be fantastical with only a
stroke of a pen.