Calling All Inspiration

Beyond the school essays and mild blogging I've been doing lately, my writing has been at somewhat of a hiatus. I started thinking the other day about how I really haven't sat down with a novel, imaginative idea to write about in a while. I did conquer my wariness of poetry of the summer, and still carry a journal full of tidbits and minute ideas to write on. However, a few years ago I used to absolutely love enthralling myself with writing "books." While the books were not always finished, I carried out the story for pages and pages. In fact, I had two books (brothers of each other, if you will) that each contained at least almost 200 pages. So, I found myself thinking: why don't I write stories anymore? I guess that the easiest answer to that question is the new chapter I've entered in my life. Along with my fusion into the life of a college student came an alteration of views, a maturity, and a stronger independence. I have found college very rewarding in that I definitely know that I want to study English. Every and any English class that I have taken has been my favorite class of the semester. I've learned rhetoric, analysis, arguments, and compare and contrast backwards and forwards, but while I was learning those things I neglected my imagination. 

If anything I believe I have grown in my capabilities as a writer since I've entered college. I've gained my own perspective, like any writer or artist should. I've written better essays and research papers than I ever have in my life. It feels rewarding to be accomplishing so much in college, but I've realized lately how much I miss the conjuring of characters, settings, themes, and plots on a page. I miss the feeling of satisfaction I'd have when I looked at the bottom of a word document and realized that it was comprised of 100 pages. I miss the fact that at one time I could write down my weird, fantastical dreams and imaginings and turn them into reality. I've written a lot about reality lately, but maybe I just need to escape my reality now and then by turning to a fictional story as my relief. 

I told my mom that I want to plan on traveling to Ireland this upcoming summer. Whether or not that will actually happen, I'm not sure, but I'd love it to! I honestly feel like my inspiration to write such fictional stories as I did when I was younger has disappeared. Perhaps being on the Emerald Isle amongst the folklore and beautiful scenery will provide me with the spark that I need to start a novel. I have so much desire to write a novel. It's just a matter of coming up with the perfect idea. For me, it has to be original. I don't want it to resemble another author's work--it needs to be unique. Whether that's possible or not, we will see. (That might be too high of an expectation, I wouldn't doubt it.) And, I want my readers to be able to see my passion for writing through the print.

My dad tells me that I could start anywhere, that ideas are seemingly endless. "Why not draw from your experiences this summer?" he asked me. Well, of course I will want to draw from those experiences; how could I not? It's just that I don't want to write an autobiographical novel about my travels. I want to express the beauty and wonder of the world (different countries/cultures) while at the same time I want to introduce a whole other reality. I'm basically waiting for that one idea to jump out at me, I told him. "Well, don't wait too long because you don't want your youthful ideas to wither." 

Point blank: it's time to be INSPIRED. I need to be. Where is the spark that will jump-start my writing career?