My Inspiration
The muse of us writers often begins at an earlier age, tempting us to create more, think harder, and often scare ourselves silly as our imagination runs wild and untamed. But that’s just it… it’s untamed.
Writing is an art, fine tuned and honed like any good craft. Some believe it’s pure talent. I don’t. Just like anything, it helps if you have raw talent but without the steady practice and push, you won’t get anywhere. So don’t beat yourself up if you didn’t start out as a writing prodigy. Most writers didn’t. Most authors didn’t. Whew! Glad that’s out of the way.
Like most kids my age *cough cough* adults my age, I grew up on the thrill ride of Harry Potter, following along at the same age of the characters. But I wasn’t shaped by one book or one series, rather a slew of them. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Hamlet by Shakespeare, The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, Twilight by Stephanie Meyer, The Circle Series by Ted Dekker, Left Behind (kids then adults) by Jerry Jenkins and Tim LaHaye, The Giver by Lois Lowry, all things Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan, The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare, The Immortals Series by Alyson Noel, and The Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins. (Just to name a few.)
I ran to books, taking my time to read each. I could’ve read an entire book in one session, devouring it at one meal. But that’s not the reader I am nor wish to be. Instead, I soak. I kick my shoes off, cozy up, and delay the inevitable — the ending. I fall so deeply into the world of fiction I barely come up for air, letting my empathetic heart fall in love with the characters.
I’m inspired to write books that connect to the unseen within our souls. I want my readers to soak too. In fact, I want all readers to stop speed reading and soak up the book they’re in. If you can’t soak, maybe you haven’t found that jewel of a book just yet. But when you do, you’ll know. Like a bad breakup, you’ll cry when it’s over.
I’m inspired by the countless authors who’ve gone before me, paving a way for fiction to be whatever our minds can dream it to be. I’m inspired by the smell of bookstores and fresh coffee. I’m inspired by the bed-time stories I tell my children.
Like many writers, there’s a fire within my heart and I can’t put it out. I won’t. I’ll let those flames grow. They’ll dance wildly, pouring onto the pages of my computer, burning through my doubts and fears. I’ll fan the flames. I’ll burn it all down. Because out of the ashes, we all rise.
Rise with me.
