Poetry, Prose, & Peonies

Catching Inspiration 

Last week I wrote a blog post detailing the issues I’ve been facing in my writing practice. My issues were clear: confidence, motivation, and consistency. I strained with my consistency because I kept waiting around for inspiration to hit me. This is the wrong move to make as a writer. As Jodi Picoult, who is far more practiced than me, once said, “you can’t edit a blank page.” 

Today, I will be detailing the exact opposite of what I discussed last week — just in case you thought I wasn’t chaotic.

While we shouldn’t be sitting around waiting for inspiration, we should be capturing every moment that we are inspired, seeking it out in the mundane. Sometimes I’ll sit in a café, and I’ll overhear a tidbit of a strangers conversation that I find really funny or interesting. I’ll chuckle to myself at the out-of-context snippet and move on with my day. Perhaps I should have written it down as inspiration for my characters. I should have caught the moment before it floated into forgetfulness. 

I’m a big believer in consistency. I’ve seen it work for me in the past, and have finished manuscripts longer than the entirety of my blog within a few short months of writing everyday. I also believe that inspiration is an important part of the writing process. We need to seize the idea when it’s present, take advantage of the moments that we are inspired to create something meaningful.

Inspiration is something people strive for. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard the cliché, “I was inspired and wrote it all in one go.” Now, the hyper-focus is real, it’s happened to me and it’s probably happened to you at some point. As good as it feels to splay my fingers across a keyboard, attempting to keep up with my racing mind, it’s also not the norm of everyday writing. 

Similarly to inspired moments, life is fast paced and multi-faceted. We all have so many things to do and so many places to be that we sometimes forget to slow down and take a moment for ourselves. Sometimes I’m so caught up in the hustle that I don’t pay attention to anything around me. Just like the café conversation, I should slowed enough to write down what was said. Instead, I was in such a rush to leave that now I can’t remember what it was.

Inspiration is not random. I know, I know, you probably want to argue with me. But inspiration can be created. I’ve seen it. I’ve done it. 

Creating Inspiration

Live. 

I rolled my eyes at the same advice years ago in my first writing class. But the longer I write, the further I grow, the truer it becomes. After graduation, I stopped living. I stopped going out, I didn’t see my friends, I refused to read. I couldn’t even tell you what I did my first year out of university because it was a blur of depression, coffee, job applications, and an obscene amount of hours clocked into Stardew Valley. I morphed into my avatar, and all I remember from 2022 is making virtual ancient fruit wine and the torrid affair between Marnie and Mayor Lewis (but that’s for a different post). 

Virtual life aside, I genuinely didn’t leave my house. The pandemic started something I couldn’t finish. I experienced what I describe as mild agoraphobia. I didn’t want to leave my house because I felt there was no point. All my friends moved away or worked such long hours I couldn’t see them, school was over so I had no reason to wake up in the morning, and life became a very long day. 

Moving to England rapidly changed everything. The placid nature of my day-to-day became a motivating factor in my decision to leave Canada. I knew something needed to change, so I decided perhaps it was time for me to go somewhere new. 

At the beginning of this year I moved to the United Kingdom on a boat. Yes, you heard that correctly, a ship. I felt like a traveller from 1900 before planes were invented. One of my dogs has a heart condition that bars her from flying, so I decided to take the only other option I had, and sailed across the Atlantic on Cunard’s Queen Mary 2. I started my journey to my new home in the wildest and most unique route I could’ve taken. 

I spent eight days in the middle of the ocean where deep blues and greys kissed on the horizon between sky and sea. I spent time with my dog, made friends with other dog parents in the kennels, and met an abundance of interesting people. 

I learned about careers I’d never heard of. I met a space psychologist that studies astronauts. He was quite a snazzy guy that was easy to talk to and kind to everyone. I also met the retired Chief Yeoman of the Tower of London over a drink and some karaoke. He was a lively fellow, the life of the party, and I was excited when he invited me to his lecture where I learned about his career protecting the Royal Family and several national heritage sites. He was responsible for planning and executing the Platinum Jubilee, the death of Queen Elizabeth II, and the coronation of King Charles III. I also encountered a documentarian who won several Emmy’s for his work in the United States, a social worker that focuses on women and teenagers in school, an award-winning writer who opened her own literary consultancy, and a top executive in the oil industry — one of the only women in her field in the 80s and 90s. 

What was most impressive about these people was not their resumes, but their tenacity and vibrancy. Their experiences shaped their worldviews, and all of them were inspired by something and worked until they reached their goals. I could list their accolades and degrees, but those are not the things that stick out in my mind when I think back to my conversations with them. 

I spoke about God, the nature of the universe, the inner workings of the mind. I discussed the nuances of filmmaking, the importance of integrity, the subjective nature of truth, and the value of capturing a mindset without placing personal bias on it. I heard stories of the difficulties women faced in the 80s and 90s starting their careers, opening companies, and the triumph of working their way to the top. I even discussed the emotionality of working as an official officer of the Crown, and the impact of maintaining history. 

These people are only a few of the wonderful humans I had the pleasure of knowing.  I loved the number of lone-travellers I convened with, the people who were on a wild adventure seeking the joy of seeing the world, to live while life filled them with the zest to see everything. I will always remember chatting with a lovely woman who adores travelling and documents her trips with photos of a little skeleton. I hope she writes her story one day so others can be as captivated by her unique perspective and heartwarming personality as I am.

I was one of many people on the ship relocating to the UK and other parts of Europe. Journeying with strangers changed my perspective and my outlook on life. I was nervous embarking on a spontaneous journey to Europe, shifting my life in search of the shared dream of success, but in these encounters I found something else. Hope. 

I felt unhinged. Who takes a boat to a new country, placing the entirety of their life savings towards making this move, in search of a career with no network, no family, and no guarantees? An unhinged person. But that’s not what they saw. Every single person, without fail or hesitation, was so excited for me. 

“You’re so brave, so young, you didn’t wait until life was passing you by. You’re going for your dreams!” 

“I know you’ll make it. That tenacious spirit and determination will get you there.” 

“You’ve got big things ahead of you.” 

They may have seen these comments as passing remarks, but to me it was a validation I didn’t realize I needed. Moving from small-town Ontario to big-city England was a change I hadn’t anticipated but the journey brought me back to myself. The voyage inspired me. I will always be grateful I took the QM2. It was more than a ship, it was the place I found hope that my leap of faith wasn’t in vain. 

I wrote a great deal of poems aboard the ship, I sang my heart out at karaoke, I had the most candid and intellectual conversations I’ve ever had. I gained inspiration from these people who unknowingly existed in the right light, and like a painting, I captured that light and preserved it in my memories. 

Without deciding to move to England I would not have taken the QM2, without having sailed I would not have met these lovely people, and without meeting these people I may never have stirred my inspiration to grab hold of my dreams and turn them into goals. They helped me leave fear in the New York harbour. 

Living is the best way to ignite your mind. Without engaging with strangers, how do we make friends? Without putting ourselves out there, how can we ever expect to go anywhere? Without experiencing the world, how can we write about it?

The best way to evoke your imagination is by seeing things, feeling things, taking the time to stop and smell the conversations as they waft across our paths. I stopped to chat with everyone and I’m glad I did. These people, and all those I didn’t mention but remember dearly, are what made my whole trip memorable. They inspired me, and now here I am, months later, writing about them. 

You don’t have to take a transatlantic crossing to find inspiration. All you have to do is open your front door and walk out. Go to the park and strike up a conversation, go to that show you’ve been dying to see before it ends, take the wrong train and end up three hours away from home, get stranded in a foreign country, take the time to stop and breathe in the moments you’re living before they pass you by. It’s like the impressionist paintings, the light is fleeting, the way the sun crests over the trickling water just right, the reflection of a low-hanging peony kissing the water and causing ripples — without stopping to capture that moment, you will never find it again. 

Creating inspiration is a mindset. The only tools you need are an open mind, a willing heart, and the courage to take your own leap of faith. The words will find you, but you have to let them. 

Header photo is an original photograph.