So I was in a definite funk. We had to move. My manuscript, The Sharpest Claw: A Talking Cat Fantasy, was off in New York, probably munching on a bagel while waiting to be proofread. I was here with day job demands, boxes all around me, and a hole in my heart where my writing usually is.

That’s when I remembered. The answer was a single word, starting with “P,” three syllables. You might think it would be potatoes, and I certainly love them, particularly baked, loaded up with sour cream and ch...