Half of the joy I find in rereading the things that I've written is remembering the people, events, or objects that inspired story details or plots. Unique mustaches, a fat guy smoking a cigar while riding a bike, and a college job making clay angels are but a few of the things I've seen and experienced that have been included in my prose. Inspiration comes from all around us and, sappily enough, even from within!

Dreams have had a huge influence on my writings. I tend not to remember most of them, so the ones I do really stick out. Take, for example, one that I had just over four years ago while struggling with a decision to move back home from New Mexico.

Standing alone in a forest, I was staring at a house on the side of a hill. It was out of place and, while well maintained, there were no signs of outdoor activity. There was someone inside the house, though. I knew exactly who it was, though I had not yet met them (and would not until February 21, 2010). Suddenly, a coworker of mine, a Native American woman I considered a good friend, appeared next to me. I understood that she was there as a guide, and she said that it was okay to move forward. What was in the house was good. It was my path. It was my way. With that, I went inside.

That dream encouraged me to move back to my home state and reach out to the person who was inside that odd house in the forest.

More recently, I was wondering how I was going to introduce Myobu, the second main character in Kitsune's story. The introduction spans two chapters and already includes candid conversation and action (no, not that kind of action, you dirty birds... yet). For various reasons, I wanted Kitsune to experience something spiritual, too, and this old dream of mine came back to me.