I recently got back from a dream vacation to Ireland. I’ve always wanted to go. For me, Ireland represented heritage, mystery, beauty, and fantasy.
And it pretty well lived up to my expectations. It was like heaven; everywhere I looked, there was great beauty.
It was at one such stunning vista that my friend traveling with my husband and I said, “Doesn’t it just make you want to write?”
And it did–it was the kind of place that made me seriously consider never returning home.
But her words troubled me. Sure, Ireland’s gorgeous rolling green hills and crashing ocean waves inspired a poetic heart, but you shouldn’t need that in order to want to write. You ought to want to write just because it’s Tuesday, or because you had an idea in the checkout line at the grocery store, or just because that is what you do.
I’m not as wedded to the idea of a writing schedule as some people (or perhaps as much as I ought to be), but I do feel strongly that if you just sit around and wait to be inspired you won’t accomplish much at all.
“To write” is a verb–it’s something you have to do. It can’t be just something that happens. You have to seize that time and throw yourself into it.