Sometimes it’s easy to be inspired for me. I simply use the window of time in which I’ve allowed myself to not worry about the rest of the world and let the words flow. I guess that is the main reason why I’m part of the writing Meetup. Such a simple concept, and yet, something that would never occur to me. It takes an outsider to bring different ideas in. Good or bad, it’s in diversity that we become better, because when we witness different ways of thinking; of living…, it makes us question our own. Anyway, I digress, the point that I was going to make was that sometimes I feel inspired” or touched by the muse”, and some other times I simply don’t. Those times don’t happen often. After all, I only write non-emails for a couple of hours once a week. There is barely any time to feel uninspired. To feel bland. Or, most often, to feel that it’s useless, that I’m useless, in a true impostor syndrome kind of way. Today I listened to a podcast which analysed the book The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield. I’ve never read it myself, but I knew of it from a thought leader called Seth Godin. I actually think that Carly has a copy at home. In the discussion they talk about the resistance”, that fearful primal part of our brain which raises its head whenever we are about to do something truly different or courageous. When we are about to make a difference. I know that beast well, it manifests through procrastination for me. Or, if the task is REALLY uncomfortable, it takes the form of me doing all the boring backlogged tasks I can, postponing that to do” over for as long as I can. But here is where the author loses me: he says that we MUST be passionate about what we are doing, and that we MUST work on it every day, no excuses. He is not alone, I’ve heard some famous authors say that, but to me it feels like a lesson leftover from the industrial times. Do MORE! Write MORE! Even if it’s crap, the only measurement is the quantity of the output, not the quality. Whereas I agree with the concept of practice, I sometimes feel we need to do less. To sit back and be bored. To allow for the muse to come to us, instead of badgering after her, day-in and day-out, hoping to win her over by persistence and in, the meantime, produce so much, that some of the work will resonate with others, who will pay you for it or give you some sort of ego-boost as a reward. Today I feel uninspired to write fiction, but who says I have to write, but myself? Today I feel inspired to write about writing and the pressures and lights that surround it. Today I feel inspired to write by myself, for myself, to myself and maybe, just maybe, others who will listen.