This is probably going to sound trite but it's true nonetheless: Just being alive inspires me to write. When I go for a walk, sit and draw in the park, have a coffee and a croissant at my favorite cafe or just listen to Andres Segovia play the guitar on my CD player I'm inspired. There is so much going on around me in my little corner of the world that it's hard not to be. A little girl dancing in the Placa Libertad, oblivious to everyone around her; a mother hurrying her children along so they can catch the bus; two old men sitting and talking over a cup of coffee; a boy and a girl tentatively holding hands for the first time in public are each, in their own way, inspiring. Will they all wind up in one of my books... perhaps, but even if they don't they encourage me to think about what their lives might be like and how they might become characters in a book. Add that to the fact that writing is, for me, the single most important thing I do every day and inspiration is a minute-by-minute occurrence.