What Inspires You?

leaves littering open street
Photo by Dhyamis Kleber on Pexels.com

I wanted to write an article about how I find inspiration for my novels and stories.

But inspiration’s a mysterious, hard-to-bottle feeling; I can’t just write “5 tips to inspire yourself” because that’s like “5 tips to bottle the sunrise.” A single, bottled moment can’t contain the whole process, can’t hold all the reasons why black fades to sherbet-orange and honey-yellow.

Like, I once found inspiration for an an upper-YA novel from watching a movie aimed at 10-12-year-olds, and the movie really wasn’t that great.

But I once watched a tv show I’d call a brilliant masterpiece, and nope, no burning desire to write anything came to me then.

(How do I explain why one motivated me, and the other didn’t? Quite frankly, I can’t.)

The smell on my jacket one afternoon inspired me to think of a silly poem about ponds and wands.

But actually doing laundry has yet to give me poignant ideas.

Inspiration’s a strange feeling; impossible to fake or duplicate.

I can’t say why I feel inspired, but I do.

Some days the passion strikes fast and floods all my veins,

Other days I write just because I expect myself too.

So what inspires you?

–bonus silly pond poem–

My jacket smells like lawn.

I really am not fond.

I’ll dump it in a pond

then wash it with a frond.

I’ll find my special wand

then turn my magic on

and clean it fresh as dawn.

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