Honestly, I’ve just always been a writer. When I was very little, I used to get frustrated because I couldn’t write the way I wanted to. I’m talkin’ like, 5 years old, little. I couldn’t write letters properly or spell many words so I wound up drawing until I figured out how to write words. Then I had a lot of issues spelling and I had to figure out different ways of writing things down so that I could express what I wanted to. (Like, if I couldn’t spell “jagged” I would say that a monster had “teeth like a broken fence” or something.) Writing has been a part of my life since before I could actually do it. I’ve always had stories in my head.
In terms of inspiration, it’s literally anything and everything. Music inspires me. Television inspires me. My own daydreams inspire me. I’ve described it before like this: I have stories in my head constantly and if I don’t write them down and share them, what’s the point of them existing? Anything and everything makes me want to tell a story.
Motivation is tricky because sometimes I lack it. I lack a lot of it, actually. I struggle with depressive episodes a lot and they tend to suck the joy right out of everything. Sometimes I literally cannot write, but that’s okay because I know it will pass. But sometimes I struggle with doing it even when I’m feeling okay. What really keeps me going are a) deadlines and b) the joy of sharing. I want to share my worlds with people. I need to, really. The fact that there are people out there who are just as interested in my worlds as I am keeps me going. I’d probably still do it if no one cared (I did for years when I was trying to get published) but knowing people like what I’m writing helps tremendously.
This is Not a Blog 