Art is hard to think about, let alone talk about. What is inspiration? What does it look like? Smell like? How does it feel and taste and sound? I spend more time chasing inspiration than I do anything else, but I can’t answer any one of those questions except in the very moment when it strikes me rather than the other way around. Inspiration is ephemeral. Elusive. Occult. Seeking it, finding it, using it … they’re all magic. The name “Hidden Worlds” is, of course, a call back to the name I gave the setting of my novel and novellas — Mundus Occultus — a Latin phrase which renders literally…