As a writer and general “creative’ spirit, I’ve been asked what inspires me far too many times. That’s kind of a ginormous question. I’m inspired in so many ways at so many points in the day that it would be beyond difficult to track.
An upcoming project I’m a part of has had me reevaluating that question in quite some depth. As a prompt for a collaborative book project (more on this coming soon), I was asked “why do you write?”
That, too, struck me as quite the heifer of an inquiry. I have a lot of reasons and some of them will be shared in my contribution to the upcoming book project I mentioned but while evaluating all the possible reasons and taking a look at some of my older writing pieces to gain inspiration… I found a little ditty within an old blog post that I thought I would share on the topic of inspiration and writing.
It’s the little things that spur the words. My book of lists. A Ze Frank video. The tangled web of disgustingly uncomfortable feelings I get when I try to wrap my head around the concept of vulnerability. The giant, turquoise silverware that hang on my dining room wall. It’s the little things that push and pull on my words. That push and pull and push and pull – generating the most dangerous creative friction hidden in the depths of my brain until all of a sudden, whilst draped in a blanket on my couch, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, something breaks.
And the words all come tumbling out of my hands. An uncontrollable burst of the English language, manipulated into sentences that convey thoughts. The uncanny ability to take strings of words that mean so little when all scattered among their separate selves – and to weave them into meaningful, powerful, sometimes-earth-shattering, sometimes-not thoughts.
As a professional writer, that uncontrollable burst is not the most reliable or convenient method for writing. I assure you that. But this excerpt reminds me of the specific feeling I get when I write my best, most vulnerable, and most personal pieces. It reminds me that the creative spirit is often unpredictable but that it lies just under the surface.
What does it feel like for you when inspiration strikes? It could be the inspiration to write, to sing, to paint, to read… inspiration to take some sort of action. What does inspiration look like to you?