It occurred to me today that I neither understand nor fully appreciate the mysterious concept of inspiration. It can be an elusive, painful, surprising, euphoric, unpredictable beast and I guess I don’t give it the respect it deserves. I’ve always loved the etymology of the word - it comes from the Latin inspirare, meaning to breathe or blow into, and was originally used to describe divinity or a supernatural element. And that’s what it’s always felt like to me: like breathing something in, a flow of energy from somewhere, unexplained and impossible to anticipate, a spark or an ignition from within or without.
It’s also always struck me as terrifying, and perhaps darkly hilarious too, that so many creative people base their life’s work and their financial stability and, often, their happiness on something so ephemeral and impossible to pin down. I’ve experienced all too often the sheer rising panic, the rage, the incredulousness of having a blank mind, a lack of ideas or solutions to whatever creative task is at hand; and that can be exacerbated by a looming deadline, a reputation at risk, or a vital pay cheque that may never arrive.
So, where does inspiration come from? Why do some days deliver endless glittering ideas and creative possibilities, sometimes the answer to an elusive problem or project, sometimes just something new and brilliantly exciting; and others bring the gloom of an empty head or lifeless fingers, the terror of a blank screen or pristine page of a notebook?
After years of creating, I often don’t feel any closer to being able to answer these questions and I certainly don’t posses the ability to conjure inspiration at will. What I have learnt is what often works (or doesn’t work) for me…
I’ve learnt that inspiration usually arrives at just those moments I don’t expect it to: when one is most busy or tired or thinking of something else. It rarely shows itself when an endless, perfect day of limitless creative possibilities stretches ahead but usually saves its appearances for those five-minute windows at the end of a long day or when I’m just about to do something else entirely. It has no respect for preparedness or even tidiness: many are the time I’ve cleared the schedule, tidied the studio, got the lighting just right and the coffee brewed to perfection only to find that nothing new or of any possible interest to anyone arrives. Inspirational lightning strikes at the worst and most inconvenient times possible and so I’ve learnt to be prepared. I carry a notebook everywhere. I obsessively record anything and everything, wherever I may be (usually using a fantastic though little-known iPhone app called Music Memos). I often purposefully take advantage of those seemingly most unlikely moments to create (when I’m at my most tired/rushed/preoccupied/stressed/ill) and am often pleasantly surprised at what appears. I never try to force it - but have learnt that I do also need to sometimes push through the drudgery and impossibility and out the other side into the sunlight. Sometimes, but not always. I can be fickle and indecisive and often don’t know myself which ideas have interesting potential or futures - so returning to an at first seemingly dead-end discarded idea can often unlock new possibilities and give it the sparkle it needs.
Above all else, I sometimes have to consciously remind myself that this is what I love doing, that this is the job I would choose above anything else, that this is the most fun I could possibly have, that the euphoria of finding it and getting it right is like no other feeling.
And that it will all be alright. It will happen. It will arrive, all in good time. Just breathe in…
Josh
