I’m a detail person by day, in the laboratory where it’s necessary. But in my other life, my real life of writing novels, I create. I can’t be weighed down when a story is churning in my head, with mechanical things or processes that falter or foul up. Those things bog me down, they slow the free-flow thinking process, they turn my novel into something that sounds more like a scientific journal than an engaging slice of life. When I’m in creative mode I expect the details of living to manage themselves. I want my car to start, the washing machine to cycle, my mower to run smoothly – in other words I want the mechanical elements in my life to magically do their job and refrain from distracting my thought flow. So I thank you Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and Eli Whitney for allowing me to think creatively. Thank you that I can engage with my characters instead of rubbing two sticks together, chasing down the horse to harness it, or tying the goat to another section of my overgrown lawn. And maybe most of all, thank you, Mr. Crapper, for advancing my plumbing to the state of the art it is today. There would be no Annabelle, Julianne, or Kyle from my book, “Mine to Tell” if I was toting chamber pots to the back forty or kicking a tank of water that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do. Thank you, all other creative geniuses, for allowing me undistracted time to write.