It’s almost been one year since I moved to the great state of Montana.

Living here has always been a dream of mine. I love the space, the majestic variety of megafauna, the forested slopes and the clear streams.

It’s been great for my writing career. I launched my debut novel in the friendly arts town of Missoula, and the media was supportive. Along with the debut novel, I scored a Hollywood movie deal.

However, it hasn’t exactly been good for my writing. While in the Chicago suburbs, I felt the crush of overpopulation, of 10 million people bearing down on me. I saw nothing but endless strip malls and too many cars to count. This crush propelled an anxiousness that produced eight novels…most about trapped people (not surprising).

But Montana removed all that, and therefore my “inspiration”. I don’t feel trapped here. I don’t feel squeezed in. Even on Brooks and Reserve I can see the Lolo National Forest. Lesser national forests are six hours from Chicago. This acts as a release valve, and I don’t feel as compelled to sit down at the keyboard like I used to.

Until now.

This past week, I started a new novel called “Dry Lake”. It’s based in Missoula, as it should be. A long time ago Missoula was an enormous lake, but no more.

Sometimes things come back….