Sometimes I want to run from the act of writing. To just get up and flee. Adios, writing. Keep your syllables and conjugated verbs at bay.
And then I read a solid book (See: Sloane Crosley’s How Did You Get This Number) or stumble upon a likewise brilliant morsel of inspiration. As I’ve written here before, writing is like learning to do a triple backflip mctwist on a high-dive. Blindfolded. It’s hard. Writing is a craft that is forever a challenge. You can never conquer it. Unless you have a lot of white hair and an equally impressive beard that comes with the initials E.H. And even still…
But this blog is one of my favourite parts of my week. Which needs to be clarified: it’s still a stressful part of my week. But as a writer, well, someone that makes a living by shuffling words, this is my true release. I have the opportunity (platform?) to present ideas, question, explore, and, yes, write. To simply write. That’s easier said than done, just like learning Jiu-Jitsu. But writing as a release is something that I hopefully never lose.
I’m constantly looking for places of inspiration. And man, they’re everywhere. But the examples of inspiration that perk your ears, make the hair really stand up, make your fingertips tingle, can be a challenge to discern.
I just returned from a 10-day road trip (or excursion with a beloved GPS) to the east coast with three best friends. I had been getting uncontrollably bogged down with work (well, yeah, writing) recently and needed an escape. This was more than that. It was the opportunity to suck up the inspiration again. To let go and embrace the subtle beauty in travel. In getting lost. In camping on an island on the ocean. In finding the inspiration to breath, take a break from writing, and then to start putting tingling fingertips to keys again.
Here’s the start of a fresh breath. And the corresponding words.
–RYAN BOLTON, originally published on Lutherans Connect.