WHAT IS INSPIRATION?
If I have to look up for the definition, inspiration comes from outside of ourselves. It comes from the Latin word "inspirare" and suggests that something "breathes life into" us. If I have to look up for a picture of inspiration I'm one hundred percent sure I am going to find someone staring at the horizon with a random description in a fancy font.
As I thought, I googled "where does inspiration come from" and this was one of the first results. I can see the future, yay.
But if I have to talk about myself and how I get inspired, things are kind of different from what the definition tells us; or at least I see it that way.
I have always been an avid reader of novels of almost every genre; even though I have certain preferencies as regards genres, everything that can feed my vocabulary is more than welcome to my bookshelf.As an opposite to what I have mentioned above, I am not a writer, but what is curious to me is that it is not because I don't want, or because I don't like it; it is because I never get the inspiration I need.
Countless times have I had stories in my head, based on pretty much everything. I imagine it, dream and daydream about it, prepare it, set the paper and the pen up and then... nothing. It is as if an imaginary wall blocked everything I have thought of and prevented me from writing it. As a matter of fact, I've had to come back several times to this post in order to, kind of, force my inspiration to write it.
What is curious to me is that there are certain times at which I get inspired, but it is when I get sad. But not sad in the "I am not in the mood" way. When I say sad I mean it.
I wrote my short story when I was in second year (the one that we are supposed to hand in in third) and it really helped me to go over the situation. In that story I could mix a topic that was really interesting for me at that time, combined with a protagonist that reflects a version of me that I'd never like to become and a setting that helped with the wordplay. I showed it to a lot of people and they told me they liked it (maybe they were trying not to hurt my feelings or maybe they really liked it) but what was more important for me was the feeling of accomplishing a goal, mixed with a little bit of pride for the first written piece of mine that I really liked.
I also wrote some (lame) poems when I was in secondary school, the ones that reflect self - despise mixed with bullying Red Bull, Coke, Fulbitos and and incredible ability to leave everything important aside to start writing.
It is curious how I had to hit rock bottom in order to be able to do something that I really like. Maybe I'm afraid, maybe I'm anxious and want to finish a 30.000+ word story without having written the first one (exactly the same as when I post). The fact is, as I'm writing this, the idea of the story I have had in my mind for a long time goes from one wall of the brain to the other.
As with my guitar, which I can't play if I don't feel like, I think writing for pleasure can never be forced too.
Ironic that I've written this for pleasure, tho.
Have a nice weekend.