Where’s your line between Inspiration and Motivation? When you have the idea, but aren’t quite ready to write it? If you write it without thinking it out, do you get stuck? How do you blend the two?

Yep, I have both of these critters. And there’s no telling which one is dominant.

Motivation is that insistent little imp my head that says “Now! Do it Now!”. He doesn’t want me to think about it. He jumps up and down and throws tantrums until I drop everything else I’ve got planned and get it done. I hate him sometimes.

He often gets me out of bed at midnight, insisting I’ll forget if I sleep the rest of the night. He irritates the heck out of me when I’m at work, because I have to let him jump around in my head like it was a bouncy house until I get home and open the gate. I really don’t know which is worse though – when he’s active and full of energy, or suddenly quiet, sitting and sulking in a dark corner.

That dark corner is where he waits until Inspiration creeps out….

Inspiration sets the story on a slow burner. The idea is there, but the thought not fully formed. She’s that little pile of prompts and clippings and notes that’s sliding off my desk onto the floor, waiting to be used. I set her aside, like a recipe I found in a magazine, intending to get to it later when I’ve had time to get everything together.

Sometimes the dish gets cold. Sometimes it simmers for a while, gathering all the flavor so the story is full and rich. Sometimes Inspiration has to experiment with the recipe for a while, checking out the ingredients, discarding the less tasteful, spicing it up a bit, stirring to get the perfect blend. She holds Motivation at arms’ length, making him stew. But now and then, she throws it all in the pot and gives him a teaspoonful.

Once Motivation gets a good taste of it, he wants the whole thing. If Inspiration isn’t quite through,  Motivation elbows his way in and makes his own demands, adding or subtracting from the dish. He wants to bring the pot to a quick, full boil and have it sizzle as it spills over, so he can look at the bright flame and tell me how wonderful it is, better than anything else I’ve ever cooked up (until the next dish, of course)!

Sometimes Motivation is in too much of a hurry, and I have to dump the dish and start over again.  But sometimes the story spills out and onto the keyboard, words flowing like hot chocolate fudge – warm, breathing, almost alive.

Then I lick the pot, testing each subtle nuance, tasting the blend, hoping for just a little more before I call it done.

It’s exhausting, like herding three-year-olds. But totally worth the effort.