What do you do when inspiration fails to strike? I sigh. And mooch around the house as if I’m afflicted by bored-angsty-teen syndrome. Which of course I am. Then I read. Good fiction. Or non-fiction, mostly articles. Looking for ideas. And I go for a walk, or a run, or a bike ride. And eventually when I least expect it, inspiration strikes.
|Walking near Osgoode, Ontario|
Except for this week. I had all kinds of post ideas in my head, but they flew away. And my trusty topic list in my journal is not inspiring me. I’m at my Mum’s in New Brunswick again, by myself this time. Hubby is at home supervising our deck rebuild and golfing his brains out. So being at Mum’s, I am trying to keep the sighing to a minimum. And of course I am trying to refrain from the bored-angsty-teen syndrome thing, having inflicted that upon her once already, back in the day. And I finished one book I brought with me. And am having a hard time getting into the second. And it’s been humid, or rainy, or just too darned foggy and drippy to walk. And I don’t run anymore. Bad knees. And I didn’t bring my bike… on the plane. So. You see my problem. Sigh.
|Clouds and more clouds over the old pasture|
Partly it’s the weather. Gad, I hate a heat wave and a rainy spell all at the same time. Especially when I packed for crisp September days which is what the weather forecast had predicted. So. Inspiration-wise, I got nothin’ folks. At least right now. I have lots of longer posts planned for later in the fall. Books I’ve read. Some more stuff on “Slow Fashion.” But Sunday, when I planned to write this, and yesterday, and today… I seem to have nothin’ to say. Or at least nothing worth writing about. That you might find worth reading.
Oh… except this. I recently read Christopher Brookmyre’s book When the Devil Drives. Brookmyre is a Scottish writer of exceedingly wry mysteries. I really like his plots and his characters. And I love his humour. In this particular novel the main character is Jasmine Sharp, a young, sometimes hapless, former actress, now female detective. She actually puts me in mind of P.D. James’ Cordelia Gray in An Unsuitable Job for a Woman… one of my favourite of James’ books. Anyhoo. Jasmine’s car gets torched, and her insurance won’t pay for it; I told you she was hapless. However, in the epilogue Brookmyre writes that, “five days later O’Hara shows up at the office and handed her an envelope containing ten thousand pounds in cash. Shoppiness ensued.”
“Shoppiness ensued.” That line made me laugh out loud. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that doesn’t become incorporated into my lexicon of shopping lingo.
There are some lines in some books that just make the whole book worth reading, don’t you think? Or lines that seem to be speaking just to you, so much so that they stay with you, for decades. Like in Anne Tyler’s novel Saint Maybe when one character is moaning about his unhappy life of drudgery and unexpected responsibility, and asking when his “real life” will start. And an older character replies, “This is your life. Lean into it.” I read that probably twenty-five years ago and never forgot it. Or that line from Consequences by Penelope Lively, where she says that books “take you out of yourself and put you down somewhere else from whence you never entirely return.” Sigh. Love that one too.
Oh, there are so many that I just shouldn’t get started. So. That’s it then. Other than a little book talk. I got nothin’… else. For now.
|That street has my name on it|
Except. Can anybody tell me why my i-pad thinks it knows when I want to end a sentence better than I do myself? Sheesh. It puts periods and capital letters in the weirdest places! Auto-correct. Along with lack of inspiration, a primary cause of angsty-blogger syndrome.
So, dear readers, what do you do when inspiration fails you? Any tricks you can share with this angsty-blogger? Any favourite lines from a favourite book that you can share with us? Any answers for the auto-correct conundrum, that do not involve an open window and a good throwing arm?
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