Inspiration isn’t from within: My journey as an aspiring writer

Last updated on: July 3, 2014 at 10:15 am by Melody Evans

Inspiration isn’t from within: My journey as an aspiring writer 2014-07-03T10:15:55-05:00 Melody Evans

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

Earlier this spring, I was out driving aimlessly in the rain, during one of those rare times that I have the car to myself, gallivanting into the unknown down some winding country road with the music too loud and the windows cracked just enough to let the smell of damp earth transport me to a tranquil place. My thoughts, like my driving that day, had no real destination, only a great big world of what-ifs and endless possibilities. Reminiscing over past friendships and conversations, looking to the future and what it might contain, I experienced a profound moment, an idea came to me so clearly and sharply that I had to stop the car, pull over and just sit in awe for a few moments to enjoy it, hoping desperately to hold onto that thought. Inspiration. That’s how it happens for me. In the most random, nonsensical and whimsical places, a moment of clear and perfect thought, untouched by anything but my own will.

The need to go home and write swept me away that day, and most days ever since. But like all aspiring writers, those of us without legitimate writing credits, the struggle to find a method to our madness is one of the first challenges we face. But it won’t be the last. I had a premise, quickly typed and shared with a few close people, because I was so insecure about this idea that I had, it felt so fragile. Like maybe it was something, but it was probably nothing… and yet I couldn’t let my idea go. Because just like real people in my life, I had already looked too deep into the psyche of my characters and couldn’t pull back. Brilliant but damaged people have always intrigued me, and so have these fictional people living in my head. I had to get to know them, their strengths and weaknesses and experience their pain, their joy. To breathe life, give substance to something that was incorporeal thought until I took the time to write it into existence in the tangible world.

I did that for several months, and then one day I just hit the wall. I sat down at the keyboard like always, and nothing came to me. The voices in my head grew silent. “Ye god, my muse, how have I angered thee?” Time and again I would sit down staring at the screen waiting for words that wouldn’t come. I wasn’t just blocked, I was completely devoid of inspiration. The overwhelming frustration, the hopelessness I felt, I still can’t put that into words. Was I going mad? Was I depressed? Was this normal in such a fledgling endeavor? I had no idea. So I started picking at things. Small changes, a tweak here or there. A change of verbiage. It didn’t help. The story remained silent. The once blazing glow of possibility had been reduced to a silent and all-consuming void.

Then I made probably the biggest mistake thus far in my writing. I walled up, closed off and secluded myself away. I shut the door on anyone and everything that I began to see as a “distraction” from my writing. Then not only was I staring at a blank screen for hours on end, completely lost and frustrated, but no one came knocking to distract me to pull me out of it. So the endless staring contest with no hope of reward raged on.

I gave up. I felt as if maybe God had reached in to tell me “now isn’t the time, let go. Walk away and see where your feet take you.” I may be hard headed at times, but I listened. Giving up isn’t in my nature, but this was bigger than my will to see it through. So I walked away. I did other things. I had intensive theological debates with an old friend. I took pictures of anything and everything that crossed my path. I listened to some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard created by a friend with little more than a guitar and an amazing voice. And yes, I drove aimlessly in the rain down winding country roads. I connected and engaged with the great big world of possibilities again. Never fully abandoning the story, just not really giving it any more attention. I took a break, one that I didn’t feel I deserved yet, but who am I to argue with a deity?

Only recently have I sat back down. Looking inward, having an imaginary conversation with these fictional people in my head. I learned that it wasn’t my will, my own creativity that breathes substance into them. It’s the inspiration of existence they gain through my eyes. Like a kitchen sponge, I had wrung every bit of creativity out of myself without being re-saturated. The more I tried to squeeze out, the more desiccated my words became until there was nothing left. The life of a reclusive writer may be the stereotype, but it isn’t the standard. And it’s definitely not for me. I must see, listen, smell, touch and taste the world around me to be inspired. Then, when the words call to me, I’ll be ready and waiting to direct the flow where it’s intended. My epiphany stands thus: I’m not the instrument. I’m the messenger. Inspiration comes from the external world, the place that exists tangibly outside the walls I’ve built around my thoughts and emotions. Like the tides, inspiration comes and goes. The struggle is to remain open to it, even when it comes from the most unlikely of places, so that we may in turn pour it into something to inspire others.

Melody Evans is a Social Media Manager for a family of healthcare companies and a freelance book review blogger for Up All Night Novels. When she’s not forgoing sleep in the endless pursuit of literary satisfaction, she can often be found diligently glued to her keyboard, seeking new outlets to express her love of all things geek chic.

Previous Post

July 2, 2014

Dark Bride Release Date News (And 3 Gates movie news)

Next Post

July 8, 2014 Salt Lake City Comic Con 2014: Arrow!!! WETA!!! HOWARD!!!! NAPOLEON!!!

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Alien Life ASMR Book Reviews Careers in Writing and Filmmaking Catholic Imagination Christmas miracles DC Trinity War Articles Ebola Faith Family Entertainment Fangirl Raves Filmmaking Geek Books Geek Comics Geek Culture Geek Entertainment Geek Gaming Geek Girl Geek Goes Catholic Geek Goes Catholic Geek Literature Geek Movies Geek Music Geek Sports Geek Tech Geek TV Ghost Bear Ramblings God's Not Dead Coverage Grace Unplugged Coverage Ham on Nye Coverage (Yeah, we went there) HWA Stuff Indie Artists Interviews Jonathan Ryan Book News Kardashians Lord of the Rings Mark Driscoll Movie Reviews Parenthood Pixie Perfect Salt Lake City Comic Con 2014 Social Issues Teen Author Boot Camp The Conjuring Coverage The Michigan Dog Man Adventures Uncategorized Writing

Select a Month November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

According to 3 John, who loves to be first and will not welcome the brothers?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Alexander Demetrius Diotrephes Gaius