Inspiration Is A Fickle Thing

Inspiration.

The blissful helper and the vengeful force against all writers.

When inspiration flows excited through our veins, there is no food, no sleep, no sound - nothing until our ungraceful attempt to bumble out words onto a piece of paper that only seems to be laughing at our effort to write small enough so that all our words can fit neatly and legibly onto the page.

Inspiration turns us into wild beasts - knights of the pen. There is nothing on our minds except for the inspiration that time refuses to let us get out.

We wait for inspiration to strike. We sit. We hold our pens dutifully. We stare at computer screens until our eyes turn red, our fingers poised to start filling the page with some amount of wonder. We sit some more. We wait some more.

We change our pen, convinced that if we find the right one something brilliant will hit us.

We switch notebooks - the perfect notebook can make all the difference. At least that's what we tell ourselves.

We say "I know I only wrote a paragraph, but tomorrow inspiration will come to me and I'll do better." And then we don't go back for weeks even months.

Inspiration helps us and hurts us in many ways. When we are inspired, the writer takes over and there is no more person. When we aren't inspired the writer sits in a corner collecting dust.

What we forget is we can make inspiration come to us. Light a candle with the perfect sent. Turn off our cell phones. Listen to the right song. Go for a walk.

Inspiration is everywhere. We just need to look harder.