This assignment is to look back at this years writing and discuss it.
For some reason this semester has found me tired. I used to write stories all the time, I was always finding some new yarn to spin. All though I once called them books, they were certainly children’s books, from a child’s perspective. I was always dreaming about wild adventures, riding horses, and sweeping cloaks. At fourteen I started my first big project, it was sort of a fantasy autobiography based on a dream I had set in Colonial Williamsburg. After some months of work on it, I lost momentum, and gave it a break. As I grew up, spent a good bit of deliberating and attempting to solidify the story in my mind, and matured through my own life, I realized it didn’t have what it would take to make a good book.
Then I met several characters. They were extremely complex with a number of difficult issues that I would have to solve. After creating all of their complex back stories and deciding that each one was responsible for breaking the other’s curses, I realized that I couldn’t figure out how to break those curses. My characters each were searching for and asking questions I didn’t have the answers for. I will certainly finish this story one day, but I let the story rest.
Since then I have written poems and various descriptions of people, but I have not found a great inspiration for a long project or story. I also know that I shouldn’t start another story, considering all the unfinished ones I already have.
I’ve been through lots of English classes that force me to write essays, arguing for some random topic that I struggle to care about. So I was really excited to start this class. I would finally just be able to break free.
What is it about inspiration? What is it about energy? I’m tired. I don’t know what it is about this year, but I haven’t been touched by the muse. I was during the summer. I did a few water colors. I’ve made lots of things. But I haven’t been inspired to write anything for some months. I generally write a poem every now and then, but even that hasn’t happened in a while. So, while I haven’t hated anything I’ve written so far, I haven’t really liked any of it either. It’s just forced and seems unnatural to me. Even this, a journal post, feels forced.
So I shall petition the muse for inspiration, and we shall see what will come of it.