New Year, Same Old You

“Though I subscribe to the idea that inspiration is a prerequisite of truly exceptional writing, I understand it is not and can not always be there…”

Most days staying motivated seems impossible, let alone being inspired.

My writing had once again tapered off in the past couple of months. Health issues, deaths in the family, prices rising, my work (read: job that pays) picking up again, and finally: a slew of rejections after finishing a big poetry project that drew me away from short fiction for a couple of months felt like the nail in the coffin. I figured hey: I had had a fun couple of years trying to break in, had gotten a few things published, and met some great people and fellow writers. Maybe writing isn’t for me.

I was talking with a close friend of mine about it, and he said “Isn’t that like… The story of every writer ever? A ton of rejections until finally something hits it big?” He proceeded to give anecdotal stories of authors and actors who grinded for decades before reaching the skill level needed to succeed. The next day I received some great news about an acceptance of mine and I remembered how impossible it seemed to even get an acceptance when I started putting pieces out there in 2019.

Though I subscribe to the idea that inspiration is a prerequisite of truly exceptional writing, I understand it is not and can not always be there. The days that inspiration is missing: those are days for reading, editing, and spending time with those I love. Writing should be a craft focused inward: creating for enjoyment not for notoriety; to get some of those stories rattling around in my brain to quiet down by moving them out of there and onto paper. This month has taught me when inspiration is present: strike swiftly while the iron is hot. When it is not, just enjoy life.