Not Seeing The French Alps Changed My Life… (Part 1)

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It’s a sad state of affairs when you keep calling yourself a writer, yet the length of time between you actually writing something seemingly gets longer as the months and even years float by. I laugh at myself these days when I tell people I’m a writer. It almost seems like a lie. A well intentioned lie, but a lie none the less.

 

The most common question people ask me when I say I can’t write lately is “why?”

 

It’s such a layered question to answer. The simple answer is I’m not inspired.

 

That is the truth though. I’m not inspired in my life. In my career, in my friendships, or even in my dreams (so much for those dream & desire tattoos in my arms eh?). As a writer I should push myself to find ways to overcome that problem.

 

Finding inspiration is so difficult for me lately. Even my rant blogs don’t appeal to me anymore.

 

I have a hundred stories floating around in my head and yet can’t seem to translate them to paper. (or MS Word as the times would have it). The worst part is, I know those stories are good. Damn good.

 

It’s not hard to tell you what inspires me. It’s people. It’s person. It’s places. It’s place. It’s the impossible. It’s the dreams. It’s the desires. All wonderfully broad terms, yet their exact meanings are very clear to me.

 

When I was kid, I used to win the school book prize every year, (bar one or two), and the prize was always an amazing reference book of some sort, filled with history, places, people…things as a child you would only see in a book. I used to stare at those pictures, and touch them trying to put myself in that place or time and imagine a world so different from the one I was living. It brought me peace, and calmed me to the point of knowing exactly what I wanted out of life. I wanted to leave the place I was in. Be inspired by the world around me.

 

Fast forward 20 years…and I’m still in the same room. In the same house. In the same street. In the same neighbourhood. In the same country. I’m seeing the same person every day. I have the same conversations. I’m reliving the same drama over and over.

 

This week however, I felt a flame begin to burn inside me.

 

I can pinpoint it to seeing a picture someone posted on Facebook.

 

A picture of a particular friend (who I’ve never even met mind you) in the French Alps. It was so beautiful it saddened me…but as I looked at that picture, I touched it on my screen and I had that same feeling come over me that I had as a child. The want for a different world.

 

So I have a plan. A plan to breathe new life into my world…and perhaps even into those around me…it’s as outrageous as it should be from me.

 

Stay tuned…I will let you all know in part 2 of this blog how this effects all of us!

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