Someone once asked Somerset Maugham if he wrote on a schedule or only when struck by inspiration. “I write only when inspiration strikes,” he replied. “Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.”
The War of Art, Steven Pressfield
I used to wait for inspiration. But inspiration is always late. Sitting nervously, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Is it here yet? No, I don’t think so. I’ll just wait a little bit longer.
Inspiration is made up. It’s a self-defeating act of resistance, holding us back from success. From being a creator. Write a blog post without inspiration? Hah. A painting? No, no. Once I’m inspired, I’ll do it right away.
Inspiration is procrastination in a bad disguise. The dream of being great. It’s a taste of success. And it leaves you wanting more. Craving the next short-lived visit. It keeps you believing, riding the procrastination train.
I’m tired of being stood up. I’ve been waiting for weeks and inspiration isn’t showing up. And to break free? I just need to stop believing the lie. It’s in my head. Made up. Success handcuffs.
Wanna know how to make your inspiration? Start working on that thing. Even when you don’t want to. Everyday. Even when you’re scared of it. Seriously. Stop what you’re doing right now. Do your life’s work.
Inspiration doesn’t exist; only true work, grinding away, is real.