I know I'm not the only one who doubts and questions my writing. I'm not the only one who feels like giving up at times. What keeps me going are the people and things which inspire me. Especially during those moments when I'm lacking confidence in my ability. You know, while writing those crappy first drafts? When words seem bland, the characters flat, and the plot filled with more holes than a piece of swiss cheese. It's so easy to give up and do something less frustrating, like matching a laundry basket full of socks.
As I started thinking about it I realized a post on where I find my inspiration would be too long. There are just too many. I don't know if having so many sources to choose from comes from luck or simply from the ability to recognize and be truly thankful for them. I suspect the latter. So instead I'm going to post maybe twice a month about a source of inspiration. A person, place, or thing which inspires me to write or what I write about.
Okay, so first up - my parents. I might as well start at the beginning. My mom and dad taught me the value of working hard. Dad wasn't (and still isn't) a reader. He would scan through our daily newspaper, but I've never seen him sit down to read a book. Mainly because the man cannot sit still. He always has some type of project he's working on whether it's wallpapering/painting a room, knocking out walls, building something or planting a garden. My dad is also artistic and when I was little we would sit at the kitchen table on Saturday mornings and draw together with Captain Bob. And although my dad wasn't a reader, he loved making up stories. Part of my bedtime routine included dad's stories about three mice brothers and their adventures. Then it would be my turn. And more often than naught, I'd repeat the exact same story with different animals.
Mom, on the other hand, loves to read. My childhood memories of mom include her starting her day early (like 4:30am early!) by enjoying a couple cups of coffee and her latest Good Housekeeping magazine or paperback - usually a mystery, supernatural or horror. She adored Stephen King and always looked forward to his latest paperback. My love of the library came from Mom who took me for my first card (the cardboard kind w/ a metal plate). She was the first to introduce me to Nancy Drew and helped me build my collection. I loved visiting the library and was amazed that they let me borrow so many books for free!
My parents inspired me to believe in myself, that I could do anything I wanted if I worked hard enough, and that creating was a worthy pursuit - one that was both satisfying and a source of joy. Combine that with my love of books and reading, and voila, a writer was born!
My mum loves to read too and around once a month my brother and I would tag along with mum on a 'library crawl' ;p We'd visit around five libraries on the same day and get out dozens of books. She's the only person I knew as a kid to hit her limit on books (I didn't know there was a limit till then). So I blame her *grin*
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Lovely thoughts!
ReplyDeleteI think reading can (and should be) a family tradition. My mother was a reader, and I read to my children. The books I read to them were limited to the little children's books but Crichton, Heinlein, McCaffrey, and even Mary Higgins Clark once. They all have a love of reading now. It makes me happy that my mother (who died when I was 14) inspired a love that I've been able to pass on to my children and they are passing on to their own.