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#1 thing that inspires me is people. Add a little music and coffee and my creative wheels are a-turnin'.
Reading inspires me. I know that seems trite, but honestly, every time I read an amazing book that I just can't put down, it makes me want to do the same for someone else. However, when I'm in the middle of writing a book, sometimes I can't read at all, otherwise elements from that book I'm reading seem to creep into the one I'm writing. I'm sure this is the mark of a newbie writer :)
Fun contest! The #1 thing that inspires me is my family and friends. That includes all of my cool bloggy writer friends. :)
So many things inspire me. Mostly, though, I'm inspired by my family. I want to leave something lasting for them and that keeps me writing.
I'm inspired by music.
I'm inspired by music mostly and sometimes by other things I read
I am inspired mainly by music, poetry, literature and more recently interesting blogs that I have come across.
My inspiration: Each time I spend time in God's Word and He reveals more of His great love for me. I'm eternally awe struck.
Cool! I totally find inspiration in nature. I try to have a nature moment every day. Sunsets, flowers, ducks outside, whatever. :)
I'm inspired by nature. All you have to do is look at my photography to know that.
Great idea for a contest. I'm a follower and I'm inspired by my family who let me be me and pursue whatever dreams I happen to have.
I guess it's people who inspire me- what they create or who they are. -A phrase said or sung, a piece of art, or just the way a person moves. My first novel sprung to life because of a combo of a song and a guy I saw on a train and the way he stood by the door
My favorite inspiration is nature (yeah, go figure)--it has so much to offer.
What inspires me in general and for writing is the same thing - I love inspirational moments in books and on T.V. The good stuff that brings on the tears. Whenever I experience one of those moments I resolve to write inspiring moments into my book.
Many things inspire me, but the most inspirational is music. It always gets me going.
Two people inspire me: God and my husband. Both believe in me even when I don't. You have to gain courage from that kind of confidence!
I've received a lot of inspiration from the Beatles. I wrote some fanfic short stories directly involving them, but they've also inspired me to create a group of four female magic-users who must work together to save their country. John Lennon was the inspiration behind my current WIP, Across Two Universes.
Sometimes I also take frustrations I face in daily life and fictionalize them. It can be a therapeutic process. :grin:
Hmm...what inspires me. Honestly - all of you. Everyday I meet someone or talk to someone that reminds me what life really means. And THAT is inspiring!
The number one thing that kept me writing and kept me pushing through to finish Oracles Promise after taking a two year vacation on it was an author's response to a question I asked him. I asked him if he ever felt like what he wrote was utter garbage compared to stuff other people have published. He said all the time but that it's what keeps him going and pushing himself to be better.
What inspires me? Success stories from writers who were told to give up. And they didn't.
What inspires me? Lots of things. My kids. My husband. Books I read. Writers I know. I love Lydia's comment. Those success stories are important.
Movies like Pirates of the Carribean and Lord of the Rings inspire me. Also, fantasy art. Thanks for having this contest!
My #1 inspiration right now is my son, Scott. The Naughty Boy factory is his story, and his desire to "buy it" keeps me going. :-)
My #1 inspiration in my life is my family - kids & hubby. Always. I want the world to be a better place for them. Anything I can do to make a difference for them I will.
What inspires me? Life. The more I listen, the more I hear. Life is a whole hodgepodge of wonderful people, experiences, and growing. And bossy characters. O:)
I see important events as they happen. I have for as long as I can remember. I must admit that I used the knowledge to gain prestige, but I didn't fully understand that what I saw was important. Now I know what my gift means and it scares me. - From the journals of Adelycea, Bard of the King's Court.
Power pressed itself against the Second’s skin, gripping him. It was as tangible and cool as an autumn wind. The brisk wave rushed though him, pouring into every particle of his body from flesh to soul. It increased his awareness, slowed time to accentuate each rapid beat of his heart, quickened his reactions, heightened his senses in every aspect and filled him completely for the first time. He had only just caressed the Power before, now he kissed it, became one with it. It was heady and dizzying.
This was what his storage of emotion was meant to do. This was why he was a Hoarder.
All the doubts in his mind were decimated with one violent slash. He pulled his silver blades free from the sinews of his victim and wiped them clean of the blood. He held on to the Power for several moments more, relishing in the euphoria, before stifling it with emptiness. He didn't mind the numbing of his emotions that followed. It was merely one sacrifice to bring about greater ideals. Ideals that he knew, in good time, would prevail. He could be patient. He had been patient.
Inspecting his bloody hands, he knew it wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to cover them in the sticky, red substance to get what he wanted. He hoarded the pleasure that came as he stripped the body of any identifying objects just as Felic had taught him. Three years of pretending to revere the old man to get what he wanted had been well worth it. He had even taken to calling him Felic, the Fool and those who knew the second well laughed with him.
He was becoming well renowned on the streets in general. Of course, few knew who he really was and he would be taking care of those few very soon, including poor, old Felic. The man who had taught him about manipulation and subterfuge would be the next to bloody his hands, though not for some time. Others would die before Felic’s turn would come, though he would not offer the killing blow. He knew just who to hire to further that portion of his plan. Sometimes it was prudent to let others get their hands dirty.
He brushed his palms against a lily-white handkerchief and let it drop into the large keg that rested at his side. They were still stained with blood. He left a bit behind on purpose.
Shoving the body into the barrel, he rolled it to the back of the alley. The dead rich man wouldn’t be found for quite some time, but once the keeper of the pub discovered him, it wouldn’t be long before the Piks identified him, even without his crest