I sat in my studio room. It was on the back of my Victorian style house, on the second floor. It used to be an observatory, so the walls are mostly glass.

I stare down into my beautiful garden with a koi pond, cottage-like garden shed, gazebo sitting area, and a club-house jungle gym off to one side. I use it for inspiration to paint.

But I’m not painting today. I’m not even scrapbooking at the long table in the middle of built-in shelving and cubbies for all my craft supplies.

Today I am sitting in my favorite chair, journaling, or writing in my Writer’s Notebook. I’ve been here for hours, sketching, writing poems, plotting out characters, settings, and background. I’ve even made lists of things to remember later, so my mind can be free to accept inspiration and form the basis for my next new novel.

When I’m finished, I stretch, doing a few yoga moves, and go take a shower. There’s nothing like a good shower to prepare you for life outside of the studio.

“Mom! We won the game!” ushers in reality.