The inspiration to write comes and goes. I treat it the same way I treat running. When I'm tired, I stop. I'm not very good at sticking to schedules, although I'm told that may have to change soon. But it's the motivation that really kills me. The actual sitting down to make it happen. I was encouraged by what I read in Donald Miller's book about his life. He confessed that writers don't like writing. They like the finished product, but getting it done requires prodding and determination. In his case, it requires an office away from home. When I read that, I thought maybe I could actually write one day. But then I remembered the first thing all aspiring writers learn: journals are paramount. You must write every day in order to train, develop a voice and a style. And the last time I journaled was more than a month ago. I could quickly check to see the last time I blogged, but I'd rather not. It was a long time ago. Maybe last fall. Things have happened since then. Important things. And I haven't recorded any of them, let alone the minor details of my rather boring life. Remember the movie Chicken Run? "My whole life flashed before my eyes! It was quite boring." That makes me laugh all the way to my gut even after I've quoted it a hundred and fifty times.
Lately I've had a few things on my mind. I've been grasping at memories I have of people and trying to extract the person's essence from the sound bites and images stored in my mind. The two people who have really been on my mind are not alive anymore. I'm going to try writing about them because I want my kids to have some sort of connection to them; some way of understanding how important these people were to their family. I want to honor the legacy they've given me. So, writer or not, I'm determined to get this done.
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