The more I write, the more I enjoy asking for encouragement in my notebook and seeing what words drop onto the page. A few (edited) examples:
Please, can I have some inspiration?
To inspire is so simple, just breathe in. In-spire. You just made something new, from oxygen to carbon dioxide. You created something. You can’t help yourself. You’re always making something, so why not make it on purpose? Draft the poem, polish the essay, spin the story. You can disdain those self-absorbed creative types from afar, but you want some of that chocolate donut they’re reaching for, don’t you? You want to dunk that donut into terrible coffee and melt those black crumbs on your tongue until your eyes water with relief that you’re one of them, after all.
So, go ahead: inhale deeply and exhale words from your fingertips. The more you do this, the more inspiration you will have.
I want to love everyone, but these people are really getting on my nerves!
Squirrels are good vehicles for loving the annoying, the takers and the screechers. They are soft furry things just like us, in temporary shape, hungry and easily frightened. Love squirrels. They haven’t done any real harm, and it can’t be easy to sleep in trees.
And remember: writing is like resentment, but the opposite. It doesn’t eat at you, but it doesn’t want you to leave it alone, either. Instead of that angry scab of corn skin in your teeth, just under the gum line, writing is the salty-sweet taste of summer on your tongue.
I’m sure I’m doing this all wrong.
Well, the only way to find out for sure is to keep doing it. Make mistakes! Get messy! Don’t pull back out of fear of being wrong. Be wrong in a big way. Screw up enough that it’s honest and visible and worthy of an edit. Forget about hiding yourself away so nobody can criticize you. Somebody will criticize you for something else anyway. Let them. Be yourself, your neurotic, frightened, messy self. It’s your only responsibility.
Forget about striving for self-improvement—to strive is to paint the rosebud, keeping it closed. Watch writing bloom in its own time and way. Sit in the sun, soak up the rain, and let creation happen.
I can’t think of what to write next.
You definitely should stop thinking, then. Thinking is the enemy of writing! Thinking is linear and puny and time-bound. Writing is time-travel magic carpet riding. Writing is the post-nap contemplative mind wander, considering the arc of creation.
Writing is friendly to thought, but thinking is the enemy of creativity. So write! Dance around with your pen in the air. Dream the days away! That’s what they’re there for, after all.
The More I Write 