Nope, nothing to do with writing inspiration. In this case, it's all about perspiration. Or, as Southern ladies say, the "glow." With our power still off, I had to get out of my comfort zone to get some work done. Since my laptop runs 45 minutes, tops, on its fading battery, I trekked over to the church, which had power, to plug it in and store up some juice. There, I discovered again something I had lost.
It was the ability to write anywhere. Once upon a time, I wrote in short bursts wherever I was, on whatever, as long as I had fifteen uninterrupted seconds. Somehow, I became accustomed to my home office, my desk, my window view, for my muse to kick it into high gear. However, sitting in a quiet church, feeling a bit odd to be dressed in jeans in a place where I normally wear suits, skirts, or pearls, I got to work.
And the muse was just fine. As the battery charged, the pages flowed. When I finally looked up, it was late afternoon. I hadn't needed my own desk chair, my special wrist pad, or anything else, except the laptop, to write. I probably didn't need that, but it was my excuse for getting out of my powerless office.
From now on, no more excuses. Place doesn't matter. Hands to the keyboard, sweat on the brow, that's all I need.