inspiration is a hell of a thing. it's rare, for one. i mean, it just comes and goes. the best example i can think of is the first song i ever wrote while playing guitar. to this day, it's still, somehow, one of the best pieces i've ever heard. i wrote the intro while learning different jazz chords and just kind of listed them off in a simple transition. the verses are just As and Cs and adds here and there. the chorus? i wrote it at least ten years later. that's the thing about inspiration, at least with me. you can't time it. i've been playing guitar since i was eight years old and i still haven't written lyrics for that song. sixteen years after writing the intro and verses, the song remains wordless. but i'm not worried. i think the best things in this world come to you and are never forced. that's why i was so surprised with the process of my novel, MAKEGOOD. depending on the rewrite of the introduction i'm still working on, the novel will end up around 350 pages. i wrote it in three months. it just kind of happened. about halfway through it all, i promised myself i wouldn't force a single page. hard as it as, i kept true to that promise. i'd go days, once even a solid week, without typing more than a few sentences. then i'd go days in a row of ten or twenty pages down. the objective was simple, to finish my first novel, but the ethics behind it kept it honest. i was inspired and i promised myself i would follow that inspiration, not the goal to make money or any other fake deadline manifested out of insecurities or lack of direction. i just did it.
just do it.
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