It's funny sometimes how life melds with story. For me, it's not the "I'm hiding friends and relations in my fiction", though I will admit that there are little hooks that some would recognize.

See, for the past couple of projects, where I'm at for the moment is a fun-house mirror view of a piece here, a phrase there. Not the "that's so going in a story" thing, more like "hey, let's crank that 180 degrees, turn it up to 11, and then how do things go?"

It's the observer side of the gig. Smells, sights, sounds, actions and words. They hang around for years, and I never thought of some things as being significant. Oh, sure, I could remember, but my feel for what's important "personally" versus what's material for a story is a whole different kettle of fish.

When I need material, it's amazing what suddenly becomes important. I realize that my catch-bin in the back of my head, where I put the experiences away to peruse later, holds many many surprises.

What will I see today that will return to me years from now, different dress different rhythm and entirely different setting and people, but carrying nonetheless the power of today's moment and my connection to stories yet untold?