I’m not sure why certain things inspire me to write. Often it seems the things that inspire me the most haven’t much to do with writing, or anything else really. Client work is one thing— as a hired pen working on someone else’s movement, I’ve been known to get more fired up than the client. But when it’s my own stuff, my creative work, well, it’s a different story. Kind of like giving great advice to your friend about her love life, while wondering why you’re still single. So, on those days when the words just won’t come out, I usually just get outside and look around.
Some days it might be walking through Chinatown, passing all the colorful tourist shops and little alleyway tea houses…
… other days it could be seeing a new statue,
… and still others, it could be something totally off-kilter, like shopping at Daiso. Have I mentioned how much I love Daiso? I love Daiso. All the colorful notebooks and bizarre beauty products and seemingly silly but somehow useful products (all less than three bucks, mind you—danger!). I know it’s weird, but Daiso makes me want to write.
(These are banana holders.)
The one common thread I find in the things, or places, or moments that make me hit the keyboard is usually aesthetic. Color, paper, texture, nature… they all nudge me in some direction. And roaming around the city in places I don’t normally go does the trick too, when I’m especially fidgety.
It’s funny, because when I teach, I tell my students—exhort them—to just write, write about anything. Write about the boy who broke your heart last week, write about how you’re the only twelve-year-old who knows how to jailbreak an Iphone, write about how much you love to play violin, hate your P.E. class, enjoy playing chess even though you know it makes you, in certain high school circles, a nerd. Just write. And yet when I sit down to do the very thing I insist my kids do, I go crazy. I can’t insist myself into writing creatively… try to make something happen when it clearly doesn’t want to. So, usually, I’ll find something to do until the words decide to line up and situate themselves onto a page. It can take a while, but somehow, they always seem to find their way.