I have written, in the past, about things that have inspired me as a writer, places, artworks, the weather, and many experiences, both good and bad.
Often ones inspiration comes from a collective of various and seemingly unconnected sources, which the writer mixes and melds into a single work.
Frequently the ingredients of this creativeness have fermented in the mind of the writer over assorted periods of time, before gelling into any particular form.
Yet inspiration alone is not the key to creating a good specimen of work, or even a mediocre scribbling.
We all collect ideas, notions and have basic concepts. We all hold beliefs and opinions which lend themselves to our own mindset regarding personal viewpoints, even philosophies.
All and any combination of these can form outlines or sketches for future efforts, they can be the précises and plans for the next chapter, a new novel, or a poetic masterpiece.
They can, but are often not!
I hear that writers get something called ‘block’. I have never understood this term, except as a feeble excuse to dillydally.
To write one must write.
That is to sit and jot down any and every word that comes to mind, string your thoughts out onto paper. It is totally irrelevant if there is anything remotely cohesive or comprehensible as a result. The fact is that you are writing and by doing so you will inevitably start to create something tangible.
In all probability, it will need to be re-worked, re-written and edited. But then what efforts do not?
Now, disregarding the incohesive jottings from a stagnant mind, what of your subject? What, you ponder, shall you write about today?
This should not be that difficult really, you already have a wealth of ideas, many rough outlines and frameworks to choose from, and yet nothing feels acceptable to you at this moment. You could do as I advised above and just scrawl, but you have sat down today with intent and purpose so you are, come what may, going to write something worthwhile, Aren’t you?
Taking the above on-board, it is clear that inspiration from whatever foundation, may not be enough on its own to germinate that much-needed seed of for selecting a subject to write about, because your inspirational suggestive is not necessarily that of any particular matter, it could be used within the text, as a plot, or a description of a place.
So even with all those wonderful conceptions and tasty ideas floating on the bouillabaisse of your creative mind, not one single word will you write until you have a topic to adhere to.
I shall let you into a little secret of mine, a way that on a daily basis I collect a whole host of subjects to write about.
I read and I listen.
I read the papers, not the daily comic style rags, but the more serious broadsheets. I read about business and stock markets, science and medicine. I am not reading these just for the reports, I am looking for the human factors involved.
The same is with the radio, I listen to the interviews and the plays, the documentary productions, literary and theatre reviews. Once again it is the social and personal aspects that I seek for subject matter in my own writings.
Allow me to give a couple of examples by way of explanation.
A few days ago while driving home I tuned into a programme that was delving into the issue of female autism. This report was enlightening enough regarding the subject itself and was full of stimulating information which I could, and still can use in the future.
However, one particular statement touched me to such a degree that I knew I had found a wonderful gem which I shall use in the near future.
One of the experts told of an interview with a young sufferer who, upon being diagnosed, said with much relief. ‘It felt as if I had a black spot inside of me. I thought it would never go away’.
That one simple sentence was, for me, like finding a pot of gold at the bottom of the rainbow. Those of you who are artistically minded will for certain understand the enormity of such a stimulus.
Another example, which I have already taken advantage of by writing a poem I called ‘My heart’, and posted on the 26th of June 2014, was during a play where one of the lines was about skeletons ‘kissing with their skulls’. I wrote the poem shortly after arriving home that evening.
(I have included that poem at the end of this post, as I am sure you would have some problem scouring the net for a single piece of poetry posted on a social network several months ago. You see how good I am to you)!
These are one way I find my subject matter for the day, or project, or book. It is also why my posts are quite wide and varied, and often seem to be associated or themed for a period of time.
Once I have decided on my subject, I then draw on my inspiration and experiences to create a unique, personal and original piece of work, which I hope that you will enjoy reading.
I also hope that my writings, my blog’s, the flash fiction, poetry, (and very soon), my new novel, does and will continue to connect with your own inner person, much in the way I was touched by the stimulus that enabled me to create my work in the first instance.
Here is that poem I promised you earlier.
My heart is a grave for lovers
Where skeletons embrace ever crumbling lust,
And skulls kiss in breathless anguish.
Scarlet blood long soaked into the ashes,
Forgotten passions abandon, the cast off flesh,
Sensuous agonies of the soul
Haunt faded moments embezzled by time.
Rise up from the earth,
Stand upon your tombstone,
Seek your absent self, your withered spirit
Wandering aimlessly in immortal eternity.
But look not within my heart,
For it is but a grave for lovers.
This poem and many others can be found in my book ‘Shadows of Emotion’
SHADOWS of EMOTION is available for Kindle / eBook or as a Paperback
OR simply paste this ISBN-13: 978-1500510312 into your search bar