Hello Reader! I wasn't going to post today, because I honestly couldn't think of anything to say. I was wrung dry, and falling off the literary bandwagon. My third letter, the one to Barer Literary, has probably arrived at school and I'm on spring break so I can't get to it. Ergo there are no updates. I've begun the second book of Volume 1, because I'm sick and tired of rehashing Book 1 over and over again. The second book, titled Rising Action, is not coming along well.
I can't imagine back to five (or is it six now?) years ago when I began this ridiculous project. How did I stare at the blank canvas on the screen and just pour out my soul? I had no direction then, and I just wrote. Six years later, I'm trying to find an agent. I don't want the second novel or any subsequent novels iA to take that long again. Yet I fear that my lack of inspiration that has suddenly appeared (can a lack of anything truly "appear"?) is making me lose sight of my life's dream.
Staring at the blank canvas showers me in dread that nothing I write will be good enough. That I honestly do not know the direction in which I am heading. So I searched for that inspiration, like a mad dog. I scoured my iTunes looking for music that will catch my soul, twirl it around for a bit, and then fling it on high towards heaven. I thought I found it in Placebo's music. I love them, they are my favorite band. "Days Before You Came" defined my first heartbreak, and the rest of their body of work continued to shape my adolescence.
But oh how I erred, fancying a quick fix rather than a solid patch over the leak in my imagination. So, I watched a movie. Terrible, terrible movie. 20th Century Fox, if you take another one of my childhood shows and then rape it into anything akin to the caricature that is Dragonball: Evolution I will firebomb your headquarters. Seriously. Anyways, that didn't work. So there I remained with a leak turned flood, my ideas and thoughts pouring off into oblivion as I wasted away into my own obscurity. Well, it wasn't that dramatic. If that's my biggest problem right now, I am blessed subhanallah.
It's still a problem though, and a problem needs a solution. Herein enters Ashton Kutcher, of all people, with his goofy smile and odd sense of humor. Did anyone see Valentine's Day? Did anyone like it? I ask because I absolutely adore this movie! There are no suitable words for me to use, I just love it so much. Some of it's cliche, and other parts seemed disingenuous to me. But I don't care about any of that, because it left me lighter than before. It's filled that hole in my head, and I needed that badly.
Movies have always held a special power for me. I attribute this to the fact that my father owned a video store from when I was born till I was ten. And during that time, I spent almost every summer watching movies. Right and wrong, equating manhood with being a hero, how to treat women, my very image of beauty have all probably been shaped in one way or another by that damn video store. So when I see an incredible movie, even if it's cliche, the film holds a special power over my mood and thinking. I start acting differently, I start speaking with more gusto, I start being everything that my laziness usually stops me from being.
And it's always random. There have been other movies that have touched me just as deeply, movies that probably possess a vastly greater amount of quality than Valentine's Day does. And each discovery, each refueling of the fires that rage inside of me occur by chance. I was looking for another movie to watch (I'm on spring break, what?) and I randomly clicked this film. I immediately became engrossed. It was celebratory and it took risks with my emotion. It was normal, yet it transcended normalcy to reach into a deep wellspring of emotion intangible. I couldn't believe I had missed it so far.
Now, I am filling up with ideas. My soul that ached and bled is finally dedicating itself to the work of creating a world filled with rich characters and a fulfilling plot. Seriously, it isn't that melodramatic. I just like to fill my language with flowery vocabulary and intricate metaphors. Or at least, I hope those two adjectives apply.
Anyways, my question is: if you're writing something, or making music or pursuing any other artistic endeavor, what do you use as inspiration? As always comments, critiques and suggestions are always appreciated. Until next time then.