Another weekend storm has now blown over, and I take a walk to the local beach. The tide's edge is heavy, loaded with black fronds of sea grass and other debris. As the water creeps slowly in, with its storm-cast burden, I doodle in the sand with whatever I find. Then I play with the idea of progression, placing the white shells in a column.
The next thing I know, is that they've turned into a creature, wriggling over the sand.
And then, before I leave, a couple of spirals emerge. That's better: there's nothing like a bit of beach play to get me ready for writing again.