Musings: Chasing Inspiration in the Everyday
“I’m waiting for inspiration to strike.”
Words that destroy the productivity of any creator, whether novelist or poet or photographer.
Successful creators know that the key to consistent output isn’t about producing as much as possible when inspiration strikes (though that’s nice too)—it’s about knowing how to pace yourself and having a strategy to wring ideas out of seeming thin air.
Self-care is at the heart of my ability to find inspiration and write. I find that after taking time to care for myself, body and spirit, I’m much better attuned to the needs of the project I’m working on. Too many competing demands force creators of all sorts to focus only on the most essential needs—whether that means safe housing, food in the fridge, or a good night’s sleep.
Self-Care allows Sustainable Creative Output
For some creative types, writing is a form of self-care that allows them to create meaning out of difficult situations. Perhaps this is how our culture has ended up with this image of the tortured artist, alone with their alcohol and their anguish. But I find that when my mental health is low, or the pace of my day too demanding, the only things I’m capable of are rambling journal entries or doing whatever I can to ease my biggest stressors. For most of my twenties, I was too rushed and financially spread thin to write consistently or think about much beyond making ends meet.
But many writers who have met all of their basic self-care needs still struggle with producing a novel a year, or maintaining a strong social media presence, or whatever other creative projects and goals they want to complete. That’s where having a flexible strategy for chasing inspiration down—as opposed to waiting for it to find you—comes into play.
So, where do you find inspiration?
There are several different directions you can take to find inspiration in your everyday life. I find having more than one avenue makes it easier to keep cultivating fresh ideas.
Solving Puzzles
Now, I don’t mean jigsaw puzzles, or crosswords, or word searches. My most robust ideas tend to come from situations or images I find puzzling—things that I don’t get the full context of or don’t fully understand. Instead of discovering “the answer” to whatever I’ve encountered, I’ll actively avoid it and let my mind chew on the problem to find the most interesting answer, then follow the “why would that be” line of questioning until I’m satisfied it makes sense.
With The Great Quiet, I started with my own irrational fear of airports. It didn’t make much sense that airports could scare me so much, when flying has always enthralled me. So I explored that until I landed on Ari, a character who isn’t afraid of airports at all—but who has panic attacks at the mere idea of flying.
Sometimes, the answers I find grow beyond the initial prompt, and that’s okay too—writers need to practice the art of letting go and accepting change more often than the general public, especially when it comes time for editing and revisions. As long as your questions lead you somewhere interesting, it doesn’t really matter how you got there.
Building Symbolism and Associations from Everyday Moments
It’s far too easy to overlook the small moments that make up our days, especially in a world that glorifies being busy. We rush from one task to the next, rarely taking the time to stop and appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. But inspiration abounds in these little moments, and the most prolific creators know they have to pause to find it. A key aspect of my fiction—beyond character development, beyond plot—is portraying the subtle beauty, the everyday magic, that abounds in life.
The truth is, art can be created from anything. It's all in how we choose to see the world around us. (Just ask DuChamp.) Even the most mundane moments of life are fertile ground if you look at them in new ways. By paying attention to and engaging in oft-overlooked scenery or interactions, we can evoke beauty and cultivate meaning. For novels with highly unusual premises or that are set in fantasy worlds, these relatable moments help anchor the text in a reader’s senses and more quickly orient them to and immerse them in your world.
Little moments can also be the catalyst for large-scale plot ideas. For example, the way the sunlight filters through the trees in the afternoon can bring about associations of lazy summer days, peace, and relaxation. These associations can build in your mind to create plausible scenes, like two childhood pals whiling away an afternoon. But for fiction, there always needs to be a source of tension as well—so what kinds of situations may emerge when you think about these two pals? Perhaps one is moving away soon, or hiding from an ugly family life. What if the childhood pals grow up and only one is left, sitting under the same trees as always but now feeling alone and empty? What kinds of circumstances might intervene between the past childhood memory and the adult in the present to create that kind of emotional change? Go beyond the obvious answers until you discover something you find interesting enough to explore on a deeper level—chances are, your readers will want to know more too.
Similarly, the crisp autumn air can inspire a writer to create a scene that captures the mood and atmosphere of the season. The rustling of leaves and the sound of the wind can be used to create a sense of movement and energy that brings a story to life… or foreshadow subtler themes and events that occur later in the novel, like the death or hospitalization of a character.
While nature is a big source of inspiration for me personally, an urban-based author has a plethora of sensory stimuli and situations to work with as well. For instance, many different novels, movies, and TV shows take advantage of the little moments where strangers may touch—a barista passing customers their morning lattes or the receptionist at a firm who hands visitors their temporary badges. Other moments full of potential for writers may include a driver waving on pedestrians at a sidewalk, or the aroma of a food cart on a street corner.
These moments can also provide meaning and closure to readers at the end of a novel, as opposed to setting up conflicts and themes in the beginning. The steam from a hot cup of coffee could reinforce the internal fortitude of a character who has gone through a major life event and is ready to rise to meet their next challenge, while a tree whose blooms are fading and falling at the end of its season (only to bloom again next spring) could be used to draw attention to the seasonality of life, with its cyclical ups and downs.
Final Thoughts
The key to creating inspiration from the small moments and puzzling situations you encounter in your own life is to slow down and be fully present in the moment. Instead of rushing through our days, we need to take the time to appreciate the beauty and complexity of the world that surrounds us.
We need to be open to the possibilities of creativity and meaning that exist in every moment of our lives. That means we need to take care of ourselves well enough to be receptive to things beyond our immediate physical and psychological needs. Fellowships, patrons, and grants for writers have a long, documented history; it’s well-known that art takes time to cultivate and that it’s much more difficult when basic stressors demand most or all of a creator’s attention.
In today’s world, that means taking all of your allotted vacation time, every year. Say no to tasks that would eat up too much of your free time. Prepare yourself so that, the next time you see the sunlight filtering through the trees, you’re in the right head space to appreciate its beauty and consider how it could add shades of meaning to your fiction.
Remember that art can be created from anything, even—or perhaps especially—the smallest and most fleeting moments of our lives. By centering self-care and thoughtfulness in your everyday life, you can take these universal moments many people relate to and imbue them with a new perspective—your own.