Where Inspiration Lives

Here we are, in 2020 at last—the future is all around us. Can’t you feel it? Does this not seem like the future we were always promised?

Maybe you’re like me, and maybe you kinda sorta aren’t really feeling the type of 2020 vibes you always expected. One could cope by just accepting that 2020 is just a number, a number that’s entered our collective psyches as a symbol of some other promised future, but just a number all the same. Or instead, we can do what creative types are supposed to do, and that is make our own meaning. All we need to begin is a little bit of inspiration—our topic of this month’s entry.

But as usual, let’s start with the updates. My last entry bookended my previous project, which was an extensive structural update of my first novel manuscript. I was more interested in wallowing in my exhaustion after a particularly trying few weeks at the time, but it was overall a fairly successful conclusion to the year. To start this one out, I’m currently doing a proofread of my fourth novel, which I originally wrote last year around this same time. So far it’s been a much easier project than the previous, both because as a proofread it doesn’t require the same sort of massive structural edits as with my first novel, but also because the quality of my writing has so clearly improved from my first to my fourth manuscript. Happy to say I’m over halfway through the proofread and should be completed before February. Once that’s done, I’ll be moving on to making a similar update to my second manuscript (written originally in the Summer of 2016 and not adequately revisited since), and further down the road, hopefully by late Q3 or so, I’ll be starting on a brand new project.

This month, I asked a close circle of friends for ideas for this entry. I wanted to pick a topic that I could actually speak to, but one that would be different enough from previous entries—so this time we’re talking inspiration and where ideas come from. Like my entry on writer’s block a few months back, this is an aspect of the creative process that I’ve rarely struggled with recently, and am fortunate to say that this is one of those few parts of the process that does come relatively natural for me—hopefully that gives me enough authority on the subject to write on it as if it were inversely something I’ve had to struggle to improve with—all of this I mention not to boast, but as a disclaimer. The insight I have to offer may not be instructional enough if finding inspiration is a part of the process you really struggle with, but regardless, I’ve appreciated the opportunity to consciously reflect on something that’s mostly been second-nature thus far.

Looking back to my early years, the first things that really inspired me to be creative (besides the other stories I consumed) were my own dreams. I don’t imagine it’s much of a stretch to postulate that I’m many creative people get their earliest inspiration from dreams. The almost supernatural way dreams are able to invoke a mood, feeling, or idea with such vague and fleeting imagery is eternally fascinating to the human condition—ya’ll don’t really need me to declare as much; but that said, mining your dreams for inspiration is a good first place to start if you’re hard-up for ideas. A lot of folks who are big into dreams will keep a journal by their bed to jot down ideas when they wake up—which I recommend if you’re the sort to have a hard time remembering by noontime why a dream was so important and impactful that morning. In fact, I think translating the emotional ephemera of a dream into a piece of art or writing that can be interpreted by other people is excellent practice. Honestly, if you’ve never had a dream that you didn’t think was worth exploring to some extent, then I don’t know if I’m capable of helping you much, as dream-inspiration is pretty entry-level to me  (don’t you hate it when writers talk like that—so condescending).

Similarly to dreams, something I’ve always been inspired by are memories… Okay, you’re probably thinking something along the lines of “no shit, Cline,” but let me try to elaborate before I lose you: When I think about memories and translating them into inspiration and creative concepts, I don’t just think of specific, singular incidents; instead, I’m thinking of broader periods of time and all the elements and feelings that coalesce that period into something more—something like a personal, unique era… for lack of a better way to phrase what I’m trying to say. Every novel in my backlog that I’m now working through is attached to a particular era of my life, usually from the time in which I first discovered the seed of the idea; and perhaps that comes with some challenges (such as maintaining relevancy when you’re inversely influenced by a specific time in the past), but that’s just what naturally inspires me, and much like dreams, the real task is translating such an amalgam of tones and textures into a functioning story that exists on its own.

A pattern is coming together here, and maybe I'm getting too in my own head (surprise) and being too overly specific to my own personal perspective, but one of the base elements of the creative process that gets me excited to write in the first place is the very process itself of taking related elements, especially those that are hard to describe with words, such as how the right song at the right time can make you feel, or how a fragrance on the wind can spark a reminiscence of every turn of the season before—taking that and distilling it into a story where those individuals feelings and ideas can be conveyed and interpreted by another person—among other aspects of the process, is to me enjoyable enough to be a big part of the reason I do the thing at all. So, if you want the key to unlock eternal inspiration, maybe all you got to do is figure out what part of the process naturally calls to you. Get to the root of why you want to be a creative person (whether it’s storytelling, or painting, or game design, or what have you), and figure out how to keep that part of your brain active and in shape. If you’re uncertain what part of the process you enjoy the most, I would recommend simply giving yourself more practice, and maybe my next tip will be of some use in that regard.

I’m of the opinion that creativity is at its strongest and most fluid when it’s in the service of answering a problem. Truth be told, my experience so far has led me to believe that figuring out the right problem to solve is just as important and tricky as arriving at the answer. However, if you’re still in the early practice stages, like myself, I would recommend not thinking too hard about finding the right questions, so much as picking one and doing the thing. What do I mean by questions? Well, it really is that broad—the question can be anything. Going back to my earlier example of dreams or memories, the question I’m literally asking is “how can I make a coherent narrative, complete with all the elements that make up a well-told story, out of this combination of emotional textures, tones, or fragments of scenes.” A question a fanfic writer may ask, for example, might be something like: “how can I experience these two characters falling in love, if the author is too foolish to realize they should be together?” and then maybe on top of that: “How can I write the above, but also compose and share it so I don’t get accused of plagiarism or copyright theft?” My point is, figure out what problem you have an interest in answering, and then answer it. Furthermore, once you have a question in your head, keep it there for a little while! Always stay in practice of course, but remember to let the answer growing from your question incubate by experiencing life at the same time. A lot of creativity is just taking a seed and letting it germinate (while reading, traveling, and other horizon expanding activities make for great fertilizer… for lack of a more apt term). The question itself is the inspiration, so go out and find something that makes you want to compose your own, unique answer. When you’re ready, the next step involves deadlines.

One last thing you could try is do exactly what I did for this topic: just ask some folks for suggestions. Honestly, if you want to be a paid writer, you will have to get used to writing stuff people will want to read, and unless you’re incredibly lucky, that means writing with the interests of your readership in mind. So if you’re struggling for inspiration, why not simply ask your readership, or friends, or family what they want to read? If you let someone give you an idea of what they’d be into, then you could also hold them on the hook for giving you valuable feedback—just something to consider if you’re still desperate for something to write!

Hopefully I rambled around a few good points. I trust most folks reading this are already quite creative and must have plenty of techniques for finding inspiration on hand—but it never hurts to compare notes. Honestly, delving into this topic lead me to reflect on some core concepts that I haven’t really considered in awhile—and again, hopefully I don’t sound like one of those writers who think anyone who approaches the craft differently are doing something wrong—but part of me simply believes that I don’t know if I would ever feel the urge to be creative if inspiration wasn’t already there first… But that’s just how my brain works as I’ve thus far been able to assess it. Ultimately, I believe if you want to be a writer, then you can be a writer; if you write at all, then you are a writer. If you’re thinking too hard about inspiration, then think less about it—just write what you will, let it trickle in until it eventually begins to wash over you naturally. Between you and me, I don’t think inspiration works like most people think it does, and truthfully, you probably don’t need it like you think you might; because what you might be thinking inspiration really is has actually been inside of you the whole time, and just needs to get out more often.

That’s all I got for this one, thanks for letting me ramble at you again—helps keep me honest. As always, thank you for reading.