Today, I'm in Toronto and the view is not bad for crafting words as you can see.
The road does tend to be a cruel writing partner at times.
You are constantly filled with inspirations from the sights, sounds and strangers and yet there are moments you want to do nothing more than plop like a dead fish on your hotel room bed.
But, those of us who have chosen this insane life of words know that it is a calling and we slam the keys and move forward. It is what we do.
There are several writing projects brewing. From the small to the large. The brain stretch to the easy consumption.
I'm very proud of this piece I wrote about the definition of a good man. When a piece like that pours on to the page it is a very good day. The more of those days in a row, the happier a writer is.
The road is a great adventure. I wander the streets I find. My camera goes for long walks with me. My notebook fills with bits and pieces of randomness that might someday gel together into a thought.
I love the road. I love to write. The two are a beautiful confusion of happy for me.