Just Keep Writing

I hesitate to call myself a writer per se. After all, what I write is much closer to a semi-private journal than epic novel, short story or even newspaper article. That said though, I can proudly say and honestly say that "writer" is part of who I am. I may not be prolific like King, my words do not change the world, and I certainly lack the linguistic genius of Shakespeare, but nonetheless, I write for the sake of writing, I write relatively frequently, and I (usually) do it to the best of my ability.

Like all writers, I sometimes can't write regardless of how badly I want to. Other times, I want to do something else -- like sleep -- and the words come unbidden, refusing to be denied, unwilling to be set aside for a more convenient time. This morning, I realized that it had been a few days since I last "published" anything and wondered if I would be inspired today, or if I would have to do one of those "Gee, sorry I didn't write, but I couldn't think of anything" posts. Or maybe I'd be hyper-inspired and write up an entire week of posts in one marathon session. (Did I just divulge a secret of periodical writers everywhere? I sure hope not. Oh well.)

Before I finished with my thought, I started wondering what inspires me to write, and before the "I wonder what makes me want to write" thought had completely expressed itself, I had a laundry list of creative sources. (Isn't it funny how the mind works?? Thoughts are processed faster than you can even form the words, which occurs far more quickly than you can verbally express yourself.)

To put it in a nutshell, humanity is what inspires me, though humanity isn't exactly an accurate word for the source of my creative outlet. I write based on knowledge, observation, curiosity and feeling. Out of these aforementioned foundations, only feeling is critical. I can know something, but not care about it, I can observe something and be unmoved, and if I don't care about something I cannot be curious. If I don't feel inspired about something, I certainly won't waste my time writing about it, because writing requires some sort of analysis. Why would I spend time analyzing something that doesn't interest me?

And it can't just mildly interest me, it's got to MOVE me. It must be something that brings me joy, anger, sorrow, righteous indnigation or whatever. The subject of my writing has to be something that impacts me on a spiritual or emotional level, not just intellectually.

What inspires me? I am inspired by the same things that have inspired writers, musicians and painters for ages untold... beautiful things like love, nature and family... the pain and misery of death and war... the love of learning, through travel, education, human experience or observation... the injustices of society, such as corruption, hate, intolerence and moral ambiguity... the amusement that comes from watching stupid humans (myself included) doing stupid things... and other personal obsessions like motorcycle riding, cooking, the family experience and yes, writing.

Oddly enough, you may not end up writing directly about your inspiration. Today's entry is a perfect example. How did I end up with this entry? Well, it was because I thought about writing, while eating something I cooked, reading the news on the internet, seeing a bouquet of flowers I bought for my wife, thinking about how she's still peacefully sleeping as I write this, and looking at the scenery out of my back window as I figure out how to put all of my random, untamed thoughts into words. (Actually, the wife just now woke up, but that's not the point.)

In the end, I guess it really doesn't matter what inspires me. And it really doesn't matter what inspires you either. What matters is that you write, if that's what you've set out to do. It doesn't matter if you're writing a school assignment, a blog that nobody reads, or the next great novel; what matters is that you keep writing.