The secret to inspiration and success

What is the first thing you do in the morning?

I try to remember my dreams in that 10 minute sleep-in window I afford myself the night before when I set my alarm.

Meanwhile, I listen to the world outside my bedroom. I listen for sounds of birds, traffic, rain, wind, lawnmowers, garbage trucks – which all help me recall what day of the week it is and what time of the morning. Then I usually place myself in context.

For instance, it is before ten on a Friday. I have work in a couple of hours. Damn, and it sounds as though I might have enjoyed a beautiful day out. Or, it is before eight on a Saturday. I have work in eleven hours. Damn, and it sounds as though I might have enjoyed a beautiful day out.

When I work dinner shifts, I tend to write off the whole day. I literally don't mean this literally. I stall, procrastinate, snack. I pick a few small errands to do and achieve maybe one of them. I feel pressed for time and watch the clock all day – a behaviour that often prolongs time, but when you have to be somewhere else, the minutes and hours slip by suddenly.

I’ve been haven’t been too eager to write lately. No subject or story has particularly tickled my fancy. I’ve scribbled a few blog ideas down on paper and brainstormed some funny bits for some collaborative projects, only without the compulsive urge to work on them, make them better, see them through. I feel like it was just yesterday I was obsessed with writing – obsessively writing, living in the world of the characters; my first sober thoughts in the morning and my last conscious ones at night.

This was probably 6 weeks ago when I was excited by some competitions, and before that, my most enthusiastic writing sessions were in September-October and March-April of 2012. I had a very close look at these dates in my old diary,  hoping to find the secret to inspiration and success. I found that was working around 20 hours a week, talking regularly with friends and had key writing incentives in mind. I was also consuming many books and newspapers and fascinated by the world at large. When I’m not writing, I slump into Facebook exploration and watch much fictional television.  During these proudly productive (though stressful) periods, I was also getting earlier nights’ rest and finding the time to exercise daily. I was busy and motivated by others. Re-reading my blogs, I seemed engaged in my own original thoughts and musings. I also seemed wittier!

I felt accountable to a writing partner, someone older I respected, who believed in my talent and understood my humour; someone whose own talent and humour seemed vastly superior to my own which at times, made me intimidated, frustrated and envious.

Strange enough, I’m in that position again, but with a new partner. I suppose a chief difference between this partner and that last is that this one is keen to make things. He produces what he writes. He does soundscapes and recruits others’ help. He is proactive about writing.

So what is wrong with me? Why aren’t I writing for these exciting partnered projects? Following my sleep-in and dreamy recollections of a morning, I open my curtains, stretch, pee and usually then go for a jog. When I get home, I rehydrate, turn on my computer, shower, log on and have breakfast. I check the newspaper, open computer windows, catch up on email and Facebook notifications and the general newsfeed. I do this everyday and as I do it, it sickens me. I am so obsessed with the online world and connecting to others on such a superficial level. For all the sources of inspiration I want to expose my brain to and professional networks I seek to open up, really I just feel like I’m becoming petty, unimaginative, disingenuous and dumber.

I saw a brilliant talk Alain de Botton gave in Seoul just recently (via Facebook newsfeed I should mention, rather hypocritically). The man is so fascinated by ideas it’s fascinating. The man’s ideas are fascinating as well as challenging and thought-provoking. This talk was about where and how to learn to live happily and as good people. Education systems like school and university don’t teach us about living happy private lives. Religions don’t necessarily provide answers either – especially for the growing number of atheists in the world, myself being one of them. Who can we look to? To Alain, he says. Not in those words, exactly, but he has set up The School of Life – institutions to help with the moral, ethical and interpersonal situations we look to solve and better understand.

These are the things I am interested in right now: being good and being good enough. Not too surprising for my young, careerless, creative, 22-year-old self living at home whilst friends and brothers are already establishing careers and families. Stories around these matters I usually write about. (Yoda-like are my sentences.) With this latest partner, overarching themes haven’t exactly emerged. Perhaps I should ask him what kinds of things he likes to write about. Obviously he has a vivid imagination and remarkable flair for the English language and we share interest in the same TV shows and movies, but what personal aspects does he hope to fulfil in writing. What ideas does he connect to? Nostalgia? Anxiety?

But I think perhaps he’s already told me. Or alluded to or hinted at, in the way that males seem only capable. He hasn’t stated explicit fears or anxieties or meta-conundrums like I have to him (and most others I encounter). But he has identified with specific ideas I have blogged about. This should say it all, should it not? Doggone, I am writer, after all, so I should know:  SHOW, don’t tell.