Until today I was so wrapped up in my story that I never realized that there was more than yesterday’s flash fiction kernel that started it, or maybe not started it but at least unconsciously spurred me on to write it. I should’ve known when I started my journey at Schiphol Airport and took out my passport, because I carry my passport with me in a Penguin card holder that depicts the cover of D.H. Lawrence’s The Lost Girl. I should’ve known when I pulled out my travel pouch and notebook to scribble down my thoughts during the 11-hour flight to San Francisco, because I carry my pens, sharpies, pencils, my good luck trinkets with me in a Penguin travel pouch that is printed with the cover of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road.


How did I not notice this? I mean, for beat’s sake, my protagonist is The Lost Girl and she is On The Road! And while writing her story I often feel like a lost girl on the road too. (That’s not a bad thing. It merely brings me the right state of mind.)


I think my muse would appreciate these signs. I can almost hear him mutter something about stars aligning or realigning and urging me to revisit On The Road and The Lost Girl. And even if he’s far away and I can only hear his voice like a whisper on the wind, this time I’ll do as he urges me.

So if you don’t find me online or at my desk, don’t worry. I’m not lost or on the road. I’ll be curled up in bed with Jack.



Signs and doodles