Inspiration is a startling thing. It can show up through scent and sound, during a conversation, while walking in the park, in a dream.

 

Inspiration is a passionate and beautiful thing. It can raise your head, turn your neck, spur you into action, make you cry, and crack your heart wide open in the most gorgeous possible way.

 

What a wonderful world it is when we feel inspired. It's like floating when most of the time there are rocks in our shoes.

 

To a person devoted to writing, however, inspiration is a fickle thing. It can hide away for months, pretends it doesn't know you, makes you hungry, won't wait for you, backs out on dates, sparkles while you sweat.

 

Most mornings inspiration just truly cannot be bothered. 

 

I don't know about you, but I cannot handle that sort of flakiness in my life.

 

For the serious writer, inspiration asks you what you've got first and then it may saunter in all sass and sweetness to grace you with its presence. It wants to know that you've got the will and the fortitude to stare at a blank screen for however long it takes and not lose your mind. It's character-building like that.

 

Of course, when inspiration does arrive you open all the doors, correct your posture, and give it your chair. Inspiration can be such an extravagant guest that it feels like gold is falling from the sky. But just like rain full of cash, don't bet on it.

 

Instead, bring your mind, body, and soul to the same place as often as possible and begin making words no matter what. 

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One sentence is better than none.

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Be patient. Be present. Devote.

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See whose rare and beautiful neck is turning then.