Tap, tap, tap. I turn my head. To my left, silvery beads trickle down the windowpane. Another cold October rain, I smile easing away from my computer desk, the howling north winds adding the perfect accompaniment to the shower’s irregular tempo. I close my eyes and try to tap along—a flood of creativity wrapped up in each drip, drip, drop.
Water has always inspired me, be it icy pond, ocean wave, or fog-blanketed landscape. Even mundane acts like washing dishes or taking a shower move me creatively. But of all the water-related activities I’ve been involved with, skipping stones is, by far, the most inspiring. My theory is that it has something to do with the way the sunlight dances on the rippling water.
It's a known fact that clairvoyants have long used the reflection of the sun on water to produce visions. Not that I’m clairvoyant. At least I don’t think so. But I do know that whenever I break the surface tension of water, ideas seem to float up from the ripples. It’s almost as if they were lying there all along just waiting for someone to set them free. Next thing I know, my brain is flooded with new scenes, snappy dialogue, and the sudden desire to race up to my computer room and—
Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.
Another downpour. I gently rub at the now steam-covered glass, silvery rivulets peaking back at me from the other side. With my head pressed firmly against the cold wet glass, I pause to soak up the magic. The smile is automatic—attached to the realization that, moments later, I’ll be back in front of my computer desk with my feet planted firmly on the ground and my fingers hovering just above the keys.
Tap, tap. Drip, drop, patter.
“So many ideas,” I whisper to the rain. So little time, I think to myself.