I’ve been thinking about inspiration lately. A lot of writers get asked that famous question, where do you get your ideas from? I already spoke a little on my muse and how I like to write, but I don’t think I’ve spent much time on inspiration itself.

I get inspiration from all sorts of places. I get inspired when I read work from other writers. I get inspired when I’m in the shower or driving down the road or grocery shopping. I get inspired when I’m walking around in a book store. I get inspired when I’m dreaming.

I think inspiration is what drives us as writers. I think that’s when the magic happens. And it really is a sort of magic. We sit down and we write and we get to that place where the words are just spewing from somewhere we can’t even put our finger on and then when we step back we’re in awe at this beautiful creation and we can’t believe it’s not already sitting on the bestseller shelf at Walgreens. Then, later, we come back to that same piece and we scowl and we turn our head like someone has stepped in behind us and thrown up all over it. Inspiration clouds us, and yet, it’s where we get the raw material from.

Everything you read will tell you not to wait until you’re inspired to write, that if you wait until then, you’ll never finish anything. I couldn’t disagree more. I’m telling you write when you’re inspired, edit when you’re not.

Which leads to editing. I hate editing. Editing, revision and re-writing are the ‘work’ part of being a writer. We all like to think that once you make it you can type up anything you want and the publisher will take care of the rest while you’re fanned with giant leaves and beautiful servants massage your toes. Editing lacks inspiration.

Unfortunately, even when you’re famous, you still have to revise. All writers have been given the ten commandments by Mr. Strunk and Mr. White that tell us to be ruthless with our precious words. Cut, slash, maul and destroy. I would rather watch grass grow than edit one of my stories – which may be why they are still my stories and not some publisher’s.

I think I was spoiled by simming and, to a lesser extent, blogging. In both places, the words are unedited, unharmed, fresh and raw. Straight from my head to yours in the brilliance of inspiration while dozens of fireflies are lit all at once and spinning in a swarm. But later, when the fireflies go out and recede to wherever they hide, I need to put my helmet on and slash at the overgrown bush I planted until a well-pruned flower is all that remains. All of us need to do that.

I don’t blog about what I’m doing everyday or what my pants status is, I blog when I’m inspired to share something about this craft I strive to learn more about. The result is like a live singer. Sometimes it’s pretty close to the recorded (edited) version of a great song, sometimes it isn’t.