On a recent trip to upstate New York to visit family, I was struck by my muse on the 403 in Ontario. No, I wasn’t injured (thanks for asking) but I was inspired. It was perfect, actually. Rich sleeping, no radio, CD or audio book, just me and my wandering thoughts. And then it crept into my mind, the first sentence of my new book. “This house held secrets.” One by one the next sentences unraveled in my brain like a rose opening in a time-lapse video. But I had no pen or paper, and as I said, I was driving on 403. Near Hamilton. There Read More
