Oh the irony that I vaguely posted on this subject a mere two days ago, and here I am
doomed blessed to revisit inspiration once more.
I’m not going to lie to you. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was the 1984 heart-warming ditty of Chicago, “You’re the Inspiration.” But since I have no specific memories attached to that song other than singing obscenely loudly (hardly unique to this tune), let’s move on.
Let’s talk about writing. Again.
Many writers refer to their projects as their babies, and I feel the same. If we’re lucky, the reward is a healthy, well-composed baby, and the path to get there is paved with inspiration–great when it’s around, torturous when it’s in hiding.
For me, inspiration comes when it comes, and there’s just no amount of pushing that’s going to convince the baby to come out until it’s ready. (I’d say “good and ready,” but this writer certainly cannot guarantee goodness the first time around.)
As far as I know, there’s no writing inspiration equivalent of a C-section just yet, and doesn’t sound like a particularly enticing idea anyway, but I do hear that walking around sometimes helps move labor along; with writing, I have to agree with this tactic as well.
Breathing fresh air and connecting with other living things–people, animals, or simply nature in general–often gives me that extra push I need to complete something, to break through a mental block, to inspire me to continue. And this isn’t limited to just writing. That load of laundry that’s beginning to move by itself? The floor that hasn’t been mopped since B.O. (before Obama)? The layer of dust that blurs my niece and nephew’s photographed faces?
It’s not a sure thing, but all of these chores have a much better chance of being tackled after I reintroduce myself to the outdoors.
Procrastination? Nah. Inspiration!
And there’s no better time than Spring to drink in all the inspiration I can stand.
[tags]inspiration, writing, spring, primavera, flowers, sunday scribblings[/tags]