Sinspiration in the fact that I don't have any. And that's like a cardinal sin when it comes to trying to pursue a career in writing things. It isn't even the fact that I don't know how to be inspired anymore -- I know exactly what inspired my last few pieces of writing, and I know exactly why I haven't been able to write anything since then.
But first let's talk about the elusive concept of "Love."
Writers love in an atypical way.
When I fall in "love," I fall for the people that inspire me. I'm not strictly talking about romantic love, keeping in mind the fact I've never actually been in a relationship, but a form of love in general: A love of muse.
There hasn't been anyone in my life to inspire me enough that I fall for them and continue to be inspired. I'm not sure if that's my inspiration going on strike after the last six or so muses failed, or if it's just because no one around me is inspiring.
In the past, someone I've been inspirationally attracted to has inspired novels and poems and short stories. There wasn't necessarily any desire on my part to pursue them romantically or sexually, simply intellectually.
I stole snippets of lives, of interactions, moments. Altered them only slightly, turned them into fiction -- immortalized people with words.
And now it's nearly impossible for me to do.
I have a hard time writing three lines of a poem, no ideas for a novel, and nothing in the short story world.
The thing that concerns me is that I have a thesis to consider, something that I'm going to be working on for a year starting in the fall.
And I've got nothing but a lack of inspiration and no one there to set me straight.
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