This quote conjures images of Jack London traipsing through a fall field, his shotgun nestled in the crook of his arm. His other hand holds a switch he has cut from a sapling. He whistles to a pair of bird dogs as they beat the bushes in search of inspiration. They spend the morning searching through thickets and tall grass. The dogs freeze, and point, they have caught the scent.
After successfully capturing a dose of fleeting inspiration, they return to a cozy cabin, a warm fire, and a celebratory drink. The typewriter pounding lasts into the wee hours.
Where do you find your inspiration?
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer
The Reluctant Poet 
Thank you for sharing. 💖
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