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You Need Inspiration

Rachel Saylor


You know who can be your biggest inspiration? Yourself. I know you're thinking, Yeah, but when I'm feeling down and uninspired, I really need the help of someone else to pull me out of it and get me jazzed again about my craft, life, circumstance etc. 

But I want you to think of the best version of yourself. When you feel on top of the world like you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. When you know it's mindset and drive over your current place and situation. In a way, that is someone else or at least a different mindset that's being overshadowed by your current self. Sit down (or stand), channel your best self and write the inspiration and motivation your current self needs to hear. 

It works. And I'm speaking from experience here. My most thought-provoking, inspiring material comes during times of distress. It's like I'm being the friend on the other side, reaching a helping hand out to myself to get back up and dust the dirt off my butt. In fact - to get real meta with you - it's why I'm currently writing this. I didn't wake up feeling amped with creative juices and excitement this morning. Instead, I felt lazy justified by the creeping thoughts of self-doubt. 
I don't want it to get the best of me, so I'm placing a supportive hand on my shoulder and whispering the words that I have deep within myself: 

"You have a unique gift to share with the world. There are stories within you that need to be told. Your specific life experiences and perspective work to create this particular viewpoint, and it is a beautiful thing. Now go, create, and get lost in the creation. You've got what it takes." 

I believe these words for you too. 

I'd like to challenge you to inspire yourself with your own words. Take as little or as much time to write it out. No need to be modest. And let me know how it goes for you. 

Cheers to being your own biggest supporter. 

P.S. If you haven’t seen it yet, here’s a link to an interview I did with my writer buddy, Cameron Frank, on his weekly digest where he highlights authors around the 🌎.  

Book Review: Call Me By Your Name

Rachel Saylor


When a love story pulls at your heart and makes you root for the two lovers to end up together, happily living their days as one, it is something to hold onto and cherish. When a story can enrapture you and procure emotions such as sorrow, anger, and ecstasy, it is a story that should be talked about and shared. 

Call Me By Your Name is a story about discovering your first love and the sorrow and joy that accompanies it. It’s about feeling vulnerable when first exploring sex while you are still awkward and unsure of your footing, yet eager and ecstatic to have such a strong connection with someone. It also shows the beauty in having a deep, intimate connection with your parents. How a relationship with them in which you can discuss vast topics and feel free to be open and honest with them brings about the possibility of loving acceptance without conditions. It will make you want to kiss your mom and dad on the cheek or pull them into a hug more often with passion, sending vibrations of your love for them through your touch. 

The story takes place in 1983, so when a romantic relationship with two guys is etched with the discomfort of being taboo, you as the reader are not that surprised. However, comparing that to today’s standards, can we truly say we have come that much farther even 35 years later? Don’t some people still push themselves to fight their natural urges and desires or hide part of what makes them them because they fear being thrown as an outcast in their family, or from their communities or just because it doesn't fall into the majority? The way the parents, even back in 1983, were so accepting of their son with whom he chose to love was so beautiful and makes my heart ache for parent-child relationships that suffer because there isn’t this same open acceptance and love. 

I look forward to engaging in stories, such as Call Me By Your Name, that send tears streaming down my cheeks and that leaves a lasting impression on my heart. Stories that represent marginalized groups that have been largely ostracized by so many throughout history. Stories that I get lost in and feel apart of. Stories that evoke such strong emotions that it moves people to change their mindsets to be a more understanding, loving individual. It’s what I hope to do for my readers as a writer. 

*Side note about the film adaptation: 

The chemistry between the two actors, Timothée and Armie is electric and reels you into their romance. Coupled with the long shots of Northern Italy’s landscape and the characters basking in the slow paced summer sun, it’s a film that makes you feel as if you are taking part of the entire summer spent in Italy, living in a villa, surrounded by fruit trees, on the outskirts of a sleepy Italian town just a pleasant bike ride away. 

Both the book and the film are the sorts to be read and watched many times over. 

A Magical Pop-up Shop

Rachel Saylor



There's a writer's group I like to go to every other week at the public library. We're given prompts and allotted 15 minutes to write before we read our pieces aloud to each other. At the end of our two-hour session this last week, we were given the prompt: Write about a magical shop that pops up. I was embarrassed to read this one out loud to the group, especially with a couple of men writers present. 


Throughout my life, I have been fortunate. At least ever since I reached puberty and in the sense that I never have to fear being out and about when it starts. You know, ladies, that time of the month when emotions turn high, every piece of chocolate needs to be devoured in sight, and Midol is carried in every bag you own. 

The worst part about this time of the month is when it starts and you aren’t armed with all of your tampons and pads. You’re at the movies and when you’re going to get the popcorn refilled you realize it has started. You hurry back into the theatre to see if one of your girlfriends can help you out, but their hands come up empty from their purses as you expectantly watch. This exact thing happened to me my first time, in a movie theatre, no less. 

I walked back out of the theatre, terrified of the repercussions of not finding supplies, hoping I could find someone in the bathroom who could help me out. There is a certain camaraderie women have when it comes to needing supplies in a dire situation. It’s really a great way to make new friends. 

However, when I walked into the bathroom, not a soul was in there. There were no dispensaries on the wall, not that I had any quarters to put in even if there was. At the end of the stalls, a neon light lit up. It read, “Ladies Best Friend,” all in pink. I pushed open the cracked door, to find a well lit, fully stocked store of every tampon, pad and liner a girl could ask for. At the back of the store a woman with bleach blonde hair that twisted around on the top of her head like a beehive, stood behind the counter with a beaming smile. 

“Oh, Welcome to Ladies Best Friend! You must be new - I’ve never seen you before. Name?”

“Uh, Kaitlin Willard,” I stammer.  

“Well, welcome, Kaitlin.”


I for one wish a magical shop like this would pop up when I needed it. If you could choose, what kind of shop would you have magically appear?