Inspiration…or, as the French would say, Inspiration. Hey, wait a second.

This week’s YA Indie Carnival’s question asks,

Where do you find inspiration for your writing?

I love this question and yet I hate it all the same because it forces me to admit things to myself, to be honest. I know, that’s strange, not necessarily for me because I am impossibly torn on most things but, at the same time, it is strange. And I think that adjective suits me very well indeed. Why, you ask? Most likely because I am a very strange person and one, admittedly, most can only take in small doses. Which brings me to what inspires,

The first? Solitude.

That is a very odd thing, not only to admit to so many people, but also to admit as being something that absolutely inspires. However, since I am determined to be honest, it is decidedly true.

Loneliness brings out the depth in my writing. This seems to be the case for many amazing writers, i.e. Edgar Allan Poe, The Bronte sisters, Jane Austen. I would never presume to call myself an amazing writer. Though, my friends certainly say that I am. (Hint, hint. Austen, anyone?) Only joking. In all seriousness though, I meant to cite the obvious longing in their works. (And that is the only comparison I’d ever give myself against these incredible artists. Just want to clear that up.)

Longing is an ever present theme within my compositions. The mark that appears just within reach yet seems impossibly far from my character’s grasp. I love the ache it causes because it makes the reward that much sweeter. As you can tell, I love drama. I also love torment. It’s the emo-angst in me, I suppose. I never grew out of that, I think. Not that I mind, because it makes me, well, me and I sort of don’t mind being me.

Of course, the only solitude I get to experience anymore is when my son is napping and my husband is working but I embarrassingly suffer to tell you that my heart breaks for their return, however short their absence truly is. I’m a sucker for my own family. Pathetic, I know.

Which brings me to my next revelation.

I draw inspiration from ‘ridiculous love’, not the ‘I love you, sweetheart. You are my everything’ love. Blah, blah, blah. No, the bizarre, foolish, nonsensical love. The sort of love that grabs you by the collar and crushes you to a near pulp. The kind that sinks into your bones and helps define you and if you were to dissect that bone, your beloved’s name would come spilling out in exponential form.

Oh! It is such an incredible sensation, unselfish love. I wish it on almost everyone I know, save for most fascist dictators and maybe that Bob Lovell guy on my local television commercials. That guy just screams cheesy used-car salesman. Yikes.

Anyway, as I was saying, it just fills me so completely to write about unselfish love. I cannot get enough when my characters thinks of the other as a part of themselves rather than a separate person entirely. Two as one. My characters know what movies the other hates, how they take their tea, what color they can’t pull off, the things that make them tired just thinking about, their dreams, their aspirations, their souls and they genuinely want to know these things. They know that knowledge of the other is a selfish thing yet is not ammunition for other goals. They get to know one another simply for the sake of wanting to know everything that could possibly be known about each other. Because they love them.

What’s more inspiring than an honesty like that?

And last, but certainly not least…

Music. Though, it is not as important as my main two points, it is equally inspiring. I most definitely could not write without it. It swells and stretches the imagination tenfold, creating a pocket of emotion that tends to spill out over my shoulders and pools onto the ground around me. It trickles its way over the floor and often times absorbs into my son or even my husband, inciting smiles or dancing that fills me with even greater happiness. It is a gift from God.

My gift to you, courtesy of the talented Danny Elfman…p.s. Are there greater instruments than the violin and glockenspiel. Maybe the voices of a children’s choir?

Undoubtedly, a few more inspirations:

6 thoughts on “Inspiration…or, as the French would say, Inspiration. Hey, wait a second.

  1. Solitude inspires me, too, sweetpea! I have my best ideas when I am alone and when the silence is deafening. That is most definitely the time when I hear myself the best. Great post!

  2. Agreed on the loneliness. I love it, the poignant quiet, the call of the next idea… it’s the best part. We sometimes complain we have a solitary job–but I disagree in a way. My days are filled with voices–they just happen to be make-believe.

  3. It’s funny. I’m in perpetual motion. In loud cafes and hotels and airports and it’s this connection between people that inspires me. The knee-deepedness of it all. There but for the grace of….you know. And yet, if I didn’t have my treehouse to go to for the quiet I need to create, I wouldn’t be able to process it all. I love solitude. I’m usually worn out for a day or two when we do finally land at home and I do get some peace and quiet. But I also crave in epic ways the company of others. I don’t know why. I didn’t really need it very much before. Maybe it’s a phase? Great post:)

  4. I loved your post Fisher! I think all artists feel ‘loneliness’ tenfold compared to the average Joe. It is because we possess a special hyper – awareness. I personally believe it is a gift. True, when we find our hearts broken it is likely ten times as painful but the opposite is true as well meaning we feel joy tenfold too.

    I too am touched and inspired by the classic geniuses you mentioned. Especially Edgar Allan Poe. My grandmother informed me when I was in high school that he is one of my ancestors some how or another and I instantly became a fan. His work really speaks to me. Anyway, I decided this ancestral link must be where I inherited my ultra sensitivity and passionate creativity among my family of practical accountants, mechanics, computer software designers, politically motivated and laser researchers. While there are many musicians in my family (a very mathematical art form) I am the only artist who creates my art (be it dance, theater or writing). Oddly enough, I suck at math, go figure. :)

  5. Solitude works for me too. Oddly, the place I find most of my solitary inspiration is the shower. Not kidding. Perhaps it’s because it may be the only place where I may get 15 minutes to myself away from my amazingly vivacious, imaginative kiddos….sometimes. lol. Sometimes they try to carry on conversations through the bathroom door, but that’s another issue for another time. So yes, the shower. It’s like a magic, steam-powered, problem-solving device.

    And I have also never outgrown the emo-angst phase either. I too love the ache of loneliness and despair, because when they get the girl, or defeat the villain, or achieve the impossible, it does make the ending seem that much MORE. :)

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