Going with the Flow

It could be something as simple as the weather or the inspiration of a beautiful landscape. Maybe it's something to do with hormonal cycles. Perhaps random events or unexpected sources of inspiration that you can't recreate, you just have to be ready for. Is it down to having a routine or to stepping out of normality? I'm talking about inspiration, the Muse, the magic that makes the stories flow at times, and stagnate at others. 

If I could grasp that slippery little fucker in my sweaty palms, I'd shove it in a bottle and cork it tight. Purely for personal use, because it's probably different for everyone. But I'd take a sip when I had time to sit down and write and the words would appear magically. Instead, I find that there are times when I have a whole day free and I get nowhere, which is annoying because I might as well have gone for a walk, weeded the allotment or picked up the knitting project that I haven't touched for months. And there are other times when I have a million and one other things to do but the stories won't let me rest until they get out on screen or on paper. 

There's a tonne of advice out there. Some says you should have a special space set aside for writing, perhaps a ritual you go through before you begin in order to let your brain know it's time. And some says you should get out of your comfort zone, go somewhere unfamiliar to write so that you jolt your brain into some fresh thinking. The trouble is, the people who write this advice aren't me and they aren't you and I have a feeling the Muse works differently for everyone. And the double trouble is that I'm still trying to work it out for myself, to put my finger on the conjunction of circumstances that effortlessly produces images in my brain and translates them into words on a page in a way that makes me think, "Fuck yes, this is hot."

What I do know is that there are some stories I slog away at because I think I should write them. Perhaps it's a new sort of writing I want to try, perhaps it's for an editor I've worked with before, perhaps it's a theme I know I should be into. But the words don't come. And I need to recognise when to give up. I have a kind of Taoist, go-with-the-flow approach to life in general and a well-developed sense of the absurdity of taking anything too seriously. Fundamentally, I write because I want to. And while it's not always going to be easy, if writing about kinky sex isn't enjoyable, then something's wrong and it's time to go and walk on the beach instead.