Right now there are twelve drafts sitting, waiting. None of them have been altered in months and most only have a title and a couple sentences. One is a letter I would never publish. It is the only finished one. I’ve mostly been unable to string my thoughts together. And yet today I sit down and plop out a post, albeit short, it is what I wanted to say in many ways. Now I’m sifting through the drafts and getting more ideas. It’s really not fair this coming and going of inspiration. I don’t like it. There are people that bring so much to our lives that the world loses a little bit of color without them in it. I can see it in the way I write everything. The connections I make and the way my points fit together and change so much. Mostly though it’s the structure of where my ideas come from change. Bottom up or top down. I don’t know that I buy into muses but the idea that someone can give you ideas, and inspiration, and well life, that I buy. Before it fades away I’m going to try to make sense of these old drafts and get some of my new ideas into motion. Ah, the time between times. How I miss it when it’s gone.