The evolution of my writing has been an interesting one and, throughout it all, I’ve never doubted my skill. That is, until now.
Back in April, I was laying in bed when an idea struck. I had been watching the series Outlander for a week and I felt incredibly inspired. Despite its adult themes, the series made me feel like a child again, in the sense that it stimulated my imagination beyond control. Ideas ran rampant in my head. Then, as I was yawning, ready to close my eyes and sleep, all of those ideas collided in a beautiful, big-bang kind of moment.
It’s not like I’m lacking inspiration. That’s the most frustrating part: the inability to properly transcribe the contents of my imagination because fantasies are usually transient.