So's I'm driving around last week, looking at all the pretty houses in my neighborhood, and I'm playing a kind of imagination game where I try to figure out which house I would want to live in.  Solely based on how it looks on the outside, of course.  Everything else aside, the one thing any home I eventually own must have, is a front porch.

I adore front porches.  And I don't mean that little 4 X 4 foot slab with a couple steps.  I mean a covered porch with rocking chairs and a swing.  It doesn't have to wrap around, but it should be a good size. The one in this picture would be a dream come true.

Other than my longing to sit on my front porch drinking tea or lemonade and swing my life away, there is another somewhat odd reason I want this porch.  It's for my daughter. 

I have always had this image of being on a date as a teen and having the boy walk me to the front door.  He gives me a chaste yet hormone stirring kiss before my dad starts flashing the porch light to let us know he's watching.  I never had this.  Never had a room or a porch or that goodnight kiss.  But, my daughter can have it.

I want her to be able to bring a boy onto our porch and get that kiss right before I come out with guns blazing.  Okay, maybe I'll just flash the lights.  Anyway, this is why I want my porch.

So what does this have to do with writing?  Well, as I was driving and thinking about that porch and that kiss, I realized I wanted to write that scene.  I wanted to write about the boy being so twitterpated after the kiss that he nearly tumbles down the steps into a heap of gangly legs and arms.  I wanted to write.

I read a blog last week on the Romance Bandits where Jeanne Adams talked about wanting snow.  She talked about wanting to build forts and have snowball fights. And as I was reading, I wanted to write that scene.  I wanted to write about a family having a snowball fight.  Or maybe about a single mom and her daughter out having a snowball fight and the cute single neighbor next door joining in.  Bottom line, I wanted to write.

I'm not sure when or how it happened, but the idea faucet has started flowing once again.  Right now it's just random scenes that show up.  But enough random scenes and I'll have some random chapters and eventually, a book. 

So for today, look around.  Remember something you saw driving to work or over the weekend.  Did you see some kids playing in the snow?  Did you see a woman in the grocery store who looked as if she hadn't smiled in a long time?  What did you see that could inspire a scene in your head?  Now, tell us about the scene.