Lately I’ve had the most sudden abandonment of inspiration. Writing is usually a part of my everyday thought, even if I don’t physically write something. Once Finals Week came and passed, writing flew right out of my mind with it–as did most of my normal habits. I’ll blame fatigue again and simply say that I don’t fancy thinking for a time while I relax my brain and body, and decide exactly how I want to organize the rest of my summer.
I am used to summers without any plans, except a short vacation, but this year I will be taking summer classes. I’ve heard it’s low-key. At least I will have a schedule to work with, and maybe then I will get more things done…hopefully writing.
Neglect is a nicety compared to how I’ve treated my writing. If I am studying writing, why aren’t I writing every day for at least 2 hours? Laziness, fatigue, lack of inspiration…whatever I want to call it, it isn’t fixing the problem. Writing is an exercise: it warms our brains up and then starts rolling with vocabulary and story-telling and all sorts of brilliance, just like walking and running stretches out and strengthens our muscles.
Well I’m also terrible when it comes to exercise.
Free writes everyday with coffee or tea would help. I could set up a writing area in my room so that it is sacred and I won’t be distracted (if I decide to clean this room). Reading is the best aid to writing, and I’ve been pushing that away as well.
It sounds like I’m trying to inspire myself. Can one inspire one’s own self? Is that possible? It isn’t working so far.
I’m writing in circles now. Typing helps my flow of thought. Perhaps if I keep typing something interesting will appear, but soon this journal will be too boring to continue reading.
I suppose it’s time for bed, and I will continue my search for inspiration and those looking for it tomorrow.