Inspiration and Motivation

I wish I could say I’m sitting here right now, feverishly banging away on this keyboard as I let my jumbled thoughts tumble out onto this page.

But I can’t; it’s more of a half-truth than it is the full-truth.

I can’t seem to do that kind of thing, no matter how hard I try, which is probably why I can’t do it. Writing is almost like a possession, where something takes over the hand and the phalanges flail across the keys – click, click, click – until a coherent narrative forms.

It’s an exhilarating feeling when your mind is working in overdrive and you can’t seem to get what’s inside your imagination written down fast enough. Writers know what I’m talking about. That feeling you have when you’ve lost any and all inspiration, walked away from the screen (or pen and pad) and thrown yourself at the world, when out of nowhere, a metaphorical truck hits you and the creativity dam breaks.

I’ve never been in high, but it’s what I’d imagine it to be.

I believe this kind of euphoria transcends the writing realm into other parts of life. I see it in music, I feel it in music and I identify with musicians when they put on a passionate performance. I’m thinking specifically of a performance by pianist Diana Krall on a show called Spectacle, which I will post as well. She plays an old jazz tune called ‘Night Train” with such electricity, it seems as if the atmosphere is alive, each note looking for it’s place in the auditorium. You can hear it in the way she deftly plays the keys when she goes into a solo, when she hammers down in a crescendo or when she grunts in satisfaction, hearing the sounds coming from underneath the piano canopy.

It’s that kind of euphoria writers are always chasing – always wanting to tap right into the imagination and transcribe thoughts onto paper. Unfortunately it doesn’t work like a tap where one can turn it on and off at will, which would be awesome, yet bland at the same time. Half the fun of writing is going through everyday life looking for a good story to tell, not necessarily a unique or off-beat one, just a good one. Sometimes it’s told well, sometimes not, and sometimes it’s an utter failure.

But we keep trying.

We keep trying because we inherently know that there is an audience that wants to hear these stories. Even if that audience is ourselves.

Isn’t that morbid?

It’s a cathartic experience to write, to play music, to be an artist because inspiration can bottle up until something takes takes it, shoves a breath mint in it and shakes the damn thing till it explodes. Then you’ve got a big mess of creativity that you don’t know what to do with but you know you must do something with it.

And that’s the fun of it all, seeing inspiration come alive when it strikes like a lightning bolt. Like a switch has been flipped and all the body can do is get out of the way as the mind takes over and spits out thoughts, words, sentences, analogies, allegories, metaphors...



“Whatever you are, be a good one.”
-Abraham Lincoln

Going forward (kind of)

It seems I’m always in a whimsical mood when I write on this blog. I usually sit down with my laptop and tap away on keys with no aim or purpose other than to see letters form words as they flash across the screen. It’s strangely cathartic for some reason; there’s just something about organizing thoughts and putting them down in a coherent fashion that has a calming effect.
If I was a really talented writer, I’d be using a typewriter to do this. I’m reading Moby Dick right now and I can’t comprehend writers using such a thing back then. Sure, it’s got that romantic write-what-you-feel-and-damn-the-outcome aspect to it but fixing any kind of typo would be a problem. I’m constantly editing myself when I write, looking for that elusive and perfect phrase, so using a typewriter would drive me insane.
This blog has been neglected for the last few months as I endured and survived all that j-school could throw at me. The program just about broke me but like the old saying, ‘whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.’ I still have a passion for current events and I’m still trying to read; I’m forcing myself to go after ‘The List’ - a collection of books I swore I’d read after school - and Moby Dick is at the top of it.
Someone very wise once said along the lines of, ‘find a job you enjoy doing and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ I wish it were that simple. If I want a career in journalism, I’ll have to go to a big city but I’ve fallen for the county. Vancouver was a good experience - I liked the culturally diverse atmosphere and it’s a great place for news and news junkies like journalists. But it’s so ridiculously expensive to live there and makes it a tough go on a journalists salary unless you land something at the Sun or Province. Loyalty to a job or career is a good and noble thing but devotion isn’t a collateral asset one can put down for a mortgage.
I get a little unsettled when I start going on this kind of mental track. I believe we’re all here for a purpose and we all have a place in life. We can pray to God to reveal it to us (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) but it seems like there’s no way for personal and spiritual growth if one doesn’t flounder around for a bit.
I guess I’m still floundering.
I’m now working for a magazine publishing firm and it’s a little different from what I’m used to with newspapers. Deadlines are more lax but it’s the slow season so I don’t plan on resting on my laurels. But it’s still an adjustment and it’s in a career field I’m trained in.
Till I find my niche and place, I’ll just continue to use this blog as a canvas to explore my writing and see where it goes. Which is why I started it in the first place.

You say you’ll give me eyes in a moon of blindness
A river in a time of dryness
A harbour in the tempest
But all the promises we made
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you
-U2