inspiration, or the lack there of

Where does one find inspiration?

Don’t ask me.

It has always been on my heart that I would like to write a book someday. My sister is an amazing writer and, now that she has finished a novel of her own and is attempting to get it published, that soft, acoustic version of Rolling on a River that was playing before as my heart song has now turned into Blood On The Dance Floor screaming at me to FINALLY write a story of my own.

Again, don’t ask me how I’m supposed to do that.

In the midst of all of my soul searching sessions, the inevitable question came to me: How in the world does anyone get inspired?

I mean, I have been before for other things (that didn’t involve me having to sell my soul to the anti-christ), but what is it about writing that makes it so difficult for me to continue? Is it the thought that I have to finish what I’ve started so why start something so intricate? Is it that I don’t think it will ever be good enough for anyone to read? Or maybe the idea that nothing is ever original so my ideas wouldn’t truly mean anything to anybody other than the voices in my head? No, the answer is actually a lot simpler than that:

Writing makes you vulnerable.

In becoming an author, if my sister’s experiences have shown me anything, you (dramatically–so) bear your soul to someone. You take the things that you love and the things that you hate, whether they be from books or movies or TV shows or conversations you have eaves dropped on, and you put them all in one place where literally anyone in the world can see them. It’s worse than social media. All it takes is two hands and a mild interest in what you have to say to start a riot in someone else’s mind.

Writing is like a diary. Now, diary’s have been a major turn off for me for quite some years now (not because of what they hold, but just a bad experience with one), but the idea that all of my opinions, even if they are subconsciously written, are going to be on display for everyone to see is slightly intimidating. But, I guess if my ideas were going to be broadcasted to the entire world on any level, it would be preferable for them to be under the introduction of a pseudonym.

I know I can’t hide under the safety blanket of a false name forever, and I know that, in the end, I will forever regret not writing a book when I was younger and had so little responsibility and such a large imagination, but inspiration is lacking and so is the will of mind. But, hey, at least I can still say that I have a mind…

for now.




“Have no fear of perfection–you’ll never reach it.” -Salvador Dali


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