How long are you willing to wait?
For me? June 14th marked 10 years.
Postal Service on tour for the first time since 2003, when their one and only album, Give Up was released. I still remember where I was 10 years ago when I first discovered them; on the corner of Newbury Street and Mass. Ave, sporting a pair of vinyl headphones that blocked out a modicum of retail chatter as I stood transfixed at a listening station in the belly of Boston’s Virgin Megastore. It was there I heard Ben Gibbard’s soft, pleading voice loud and clear:
One of the loves of my life is simultaneously the bane of my existence.
What does this look like, you ask? A warped cycle that goes a little something like this:
I go out and experience everything (heck, anything) that could potentially become fodder for my writing (read: copious notes in my Moleskine) and when the creative inspiration hit me, I spend HOURS writing. It is a “feast or famine” mentality that keeps the thoughts tumbling around in my head instead of flowing through my fingertips onto the screen or page before me. My recent writing challenge helped me identify that I don’t carve out enough time to devote to a daily writing practice. But the what about the other side of the coin—this deeply held belief I have about the creative spirit and writing when inspiration strikes?