From the time we’re old enough to realize that we have opinions, likes and dislikes, and a voice of our own, we find that we are motivated and inspired by different things.
When I was little, my parents inspired me. I knew that if I behaved, my days would have a positive outcome. On the other hand, if I was a brat, (which I’m told I frequently was), I was often sent to my room. I believe I used to get spankings, but don’t remember them. Though I do recall a time that Dad simply threatened one, and I immediately shaped up. For the most part–brat though I may have been–my childhood was wonderful. I have many happy memories and still retain a number of my childhood friends.
My mother encouraged my creativity, and my father tried to keep me grounded. “Every artist needs a real job.” I don’t know how many times I heard that. I believe there can be a happy balance between the two. I worked hard to get where I am today and am grateful that I can pursue my dreams.
So what inspires me now? Memories. Every experience, every sound, smell, and taste. Every broken heart and first kiss. Every gentle touch, and every slap of the hand. Pain and pleasure both. They are all a part of me and me alone. And with every character I write, a part of me comes through. There are things I’ve experienced that I wish I never had but that make a story more intriguing. Had I not gone through them, I doubt I could have written them with such emotion.
Each day starts a new inspiration. Pay attention to it. See with fresh eyes every detail of the world surrounding you. Listen to the sounds you take for granted. Hear their depth. Feel with not only your fingers, but also with your heart. And savor every taste and smell–even the bad ones. I thank God for this beautiful world we live in and for all my life’s experiences. I hope that my writing will pass it on to others.