What Inspires Me to Write (When the World Keeps Getting Smaller)

Chronic illness shrunk my world—so my imagination exploded.

Here’s why I write when every day feels borrowed.

1. The Alchemy of Attention

Most of my ideas arrive in two places:

• On walks, where the rhythm of my steps syncs with the rhythm of my thoughts.

• In bed, during the hour(s)-long ritual of falling asleep, soothed by the thump-thump of my heart’s protest (thanks, dysautonomia).

When I was healthy enough to travel, new places were story catalysts—ordinary things turned extraordinary under unfamiliar skies. Now, mostly housebound, I’ve learned: constriction breeds expansion. The smaller my world gets, the wider my imagination stretches to fill it.

2. Stories Start as Sparks

A single line. A what if.

• "What if someone destroyed a museum painting?" (Waiting for Sunday)

• "What if a sick man summoned a demon to kill him?" (The Last Summoner)

But characters write my stories. Plot is just the ground they dig their nails into. They’re all unhinged, obsessive, alive—because when you’re sick, or fighting to stay afloat, things have to matter. My characters feel in ways I can’t afford to. They don’t run from things, even when they call themselves cowards. They burn, and I tend the fire.

3. Death as a Muse

I write because this great, beautiful torture of a miracle could end. If I have to suffer, let it mean something. Let me name it.

People may call my work melodramatic. I do too, sometimes. But chronic illness pares life down to its bones, leaving no room for half-feeling. When the future’s a murky void, all that’s left is this notebook, and these characters, more real to me than my own hands.

4. The Paradox of Less

I was told once: "The cure for writer’s block is to remove everything else." Lock yourself in a blank room until writing is the only escape. Chronic illness does that for you. It strips away until you’re left with the thing you’ve been running from: yourself.

Funny thing—I have less energy than ever, but I write more than ever. When I was healthy, time felt infinite. Now? Urgency sharpens every word. My books unfold in small, enclosed spaces—two characters in a room, nowhere to hide. That’s where truth lives.

5. The Habit of Survival

What really inspires me?

• The 4 AM quiet, when the world feels mine.

• The need to flee my body for an hour.

• The characters who whisper, "Get us out."

• The label "writer"—a lie until the words make it true.

Some days, it’s nothing. Some days, it’s everything. Always, it’s just the next word. The next. And the next.