Inspiration is like a little itch. You can ignore it for awhile, but then it grows and becomes more bothersome. If you continue to ignore it, it will drive you crazy until you can’t think of anything else except finding a way to get it scratched.
At least that’s how it is for me.
Inspiration ebbs and flows in me. Poetry sinks to the bottom of my list, the back of my mind for awhile, weeks or months, and then suddenly I find myself with this urge to write or to work and revise. Like that itch, rising to the surface. I might not act on it right away, but I love to feel it building in me, knowing that I’m coming up on a swell of creative productivity. Knowing that even though I procrastinate often, the tide is about to turn, and art will follow.