Finding the motivation to write can be difficult, especially when the world is so full of distractions. We are surrounded by so much technology that being taken away from that hum of information can be a culture shock of its own. But as any writer can tell you, the urge to write isn’t some matter of a paycheck (never that) or obligation, but of instinct. The world around us is inspiration, sometimes through tragedy, or wonder. So when the time strikes, you either write, or you burn that chance. Even if you come to the same thought again, it may never be quite the same, may never be that same iron ready to be struck.
I don’t have much else to say, except I am going to be busy the next few days. I hope to writing to my fullest, but sometimes life happens. When you have to make that choice, between a paycheck and inspiration, friends and creativity, I understand why the great authors of past eras had no such obligations. Woolf made a point of talking about how her inheritance left her time to write, something most other women were not afforded.
I understand that now (not the whole woman thing, the other parts). While the working class has given us amazing writers, this new age has created a dynamic where we can think many great thoughts, but rarely have the chance to pen them (or draw them, or build them).
Artists know they sit on a wall between luck and hard work, drive and who-you-know. It is a terrifying thought that makes so much of our work, our drive to learn, our study and effort, seem absolutely pointless.
But what can we do, we are driven, like any artist from programmers to toy makers, to do our craft.