Writing Inspo Novels & Stories

I wrote about how this girl and this wolf tried to stay away from each other but kept getting drawn back into each other’s lives. When I finished writing for the day, I was so happy that I was beginning to write Noah out of the world that I was creating on my laptop. It felt good to finally take control. I saved my draft and moved onto Zoodago, the website where I uploaded the latest chapters of my work. My followers would be so happy to hear that I was finally writing again. That I had found inspiration, that maybe, just maybe, I had a new muse. I went to my message board so that I could type my update:

Mira's POV I was on the sofa trying to put my thoughts together to write a new chapter of my novel. Seems inspiration left me, I have scattered papers around and pressed a pen to paper thousands times, but no words were written. A water droplet from my still dumped after the bath hair dropped on a paper. Earlier in the bath tons of ideas hit me and I barely drying myself just throw on me a robe, not bothering even to close it properly rushed to write, but inspiration was gone as fast as it came.

"And maybe you can help me write the story as it goes hon." "Ahh, I don't do the writing stuff actually very well. I am no good at those English thingy's and grammar and stuff. Maybe I can be . . . what do you call it . . . your muse or something like that?" "Muse, yes, perfect. You be my muse and your job is to help inspire me with an idea or two. Give me a good start and let's make it maybe a little scary for our pretty heroine. Something realistic though that will capture your attention right away and then I will go from there."

“That’s not, it’s not like that. He’s just…” “Your muse,” Cássia finished, wiggling her eyebrows. “Yes!” I seized on the word as if it were a lifeline. “Exactly. He’s my muse. That’s all. The hero in my book needed something, and now he has it. Crooked grin, sarcastic hero energy. Inspiration. Nothing more.” Cássia leaned back, sipping from a mug I was ninety percent sure wasn’t coffee. “So let me get this straight. He saves you, brings you chocolate-worthy inspiration, makes you write like wildfire again, and you’re telling me it’s not personal?”

I love to learn and grow as I go through this process. For avid readers, please let me know how I can enhance the experience. I have an inspiration board on P*******t and a playlist on Spotify. If I can get my life organized enough to get ahead. I will post links to enhance the experience and you can see where my crazy brain is at. :D I have also started a F* group for discussions.@MissLWrites It is easier for me to interact there than here.

This condition would last until mid-college days. When headaches visit as frequent as the rain, the mind starts to be pre-occupied with other things. Frustrations about people and circumstance set in. Rather than be defeated by these precepts, I started training myself to be productive in areas where no one, in my limited knowledge of people in our locale, tried to take the time seriously. And to somehow apply whatever thoughts or words I have read in the scarcity of books at home, I began writing non-sense poetry. During those times of inspiration, I always have with me a pencil and a pad of paper. When inspiration strikes, at any given time or circumstance, one needs to get hit.