My creative process is a bit like herding cats. Ideas dart in and out of my mind on silent mitts. Some are too quick to grab. Others amble about, enticing me to scratch them under the chin just so.
Certain ideas ruffle their furry softness around my imagination lingering long enough for me to capture them. Others pounce, grabbing me when least suspecting, razor teeth nipping; then just as quickly as they came, scramble off half-crazed down the hallway leaving me with nothing more than a few phantom bites.
Needing undivided attention, some dig their claws into my soul refusing to let go until I have memorialized them. Some fall at my feet, lolling around, bellies bared, and when I reach out to feel their lovely warmth, they dart away taunting: “catch me if you can.”
Sometimes an idea shows up like an old bedraggled stray at my door, begging I take notice because no one else will. Other times I am gifted with a half dead thing that is better left to perish than to go through the trouble of resuscitation.
Occasionally, these entities will approach on tender paws, encouraging me to stroke their silken spine from head to tail over and over until mesmerized into submission.
Sometimes, if I am very still and very quiet, several at once, will curl up into my lap, as I oh-so-carefully reach for a pen (without disturbing their purring slumber) to transcribe their murmurs onto words.
Once gathered, I begin to shape these creatures into something that has never existed before.
And when done, my creation is set free and I begin herding cats again.