Hanging up the washing last night, I remembered a few more writing ideas I had at the start of the month, ones I could add in if I were running short on ideas. Today? No idea. They have escaped, or perhaps gone back into the door seal of the washing machine where socks go when they want to stay in the water a bit longer.
Too many people have written on trying to find inspiration. Others have debated: inspiration or perspiration? I’m not here to add to those words. I do think many of us hope for ideas to steal up on us. We don’t just want to conjour things up by ourselves, or reason them out entirely, although fun can be had in doing that.
The point is that a proper story captures you, stays with you. Whether you are the reader, or the writer. And yes, we can gain inspiration from our own lives, others’ lives, research, and so on. But we know the real deal when it comes. So we look out for it, searching like the woman who sweeps and sweeps her house in search of the lost coin.
Another part of me is aware of our brains operating a bit like one of those fabled ‘just in time’ despatch centres. Sometimes the ideas do come – and then they go and hide until the time is right. I am thinking back to the post I wrote a few days back on The Lying Tiger. The point was that the words had to come at the right time, as well as being the right words, in the right order.
The processes of writing and editing will give us the right words, in the right order, if we work at it. The right time is also the right time for the reader, of course. Which in the days of blog posts can mean immediately – reading posts of people battening down for the huge storms in the US – or at the time when it seems to mean the most.
So many blog posts where people comment are where the availability of the words, and the reading of the words, combined at the right time for the reader. And if you are sick in body, or heart, or looking for a shoulder to cry on, words can help there too. Words are a great deal about not being alone – in ourselves, in our experiences.
Right now, I’m out of time to write. There’s other things to be getting on with. But that’s OK. I know where the well is when I’m feeing thirsty. And I realise more and more that I need to drink before I can look to pour out water, whether for myself or for others.