My Muse is a Fickle Bitch
I’ve read more than a few articles in the last few weeks that preach you must put your nose to the grind stone, chain yourself to the chair, write write write every minute you have, give up all pleasures, shun your friends, and if all your friends happen to be on Facebook, Twitter or Backspace, stay off those places as much as possible if you ever want to become successful at this game called writing.
I’m sure that works for some, perhaps for most. What it doesn’t do is work for me.
My Muse is a fickle bitch. She comes along whenever she damn well pleases, whispering words which I type as fast as my fingers can fly over the keyboard. She eggs my characters on, encouraging them to give me the hardest time possible should I even attempt to control their actions. She twists my plots on their head and shoots them off in directions I never imagined they’d go. I follow her like a whipped puppy, obedient to its master.
And then she leaves again. In the middle of a scene. In the middle of a paragraph. In the middle of a bloody sentence.
She might stay away for hours. Days. Weeks. While I while away the time at solitaire or Facebook or Twitter or Backspace, clean the house, clean the cat boxes, twiddle my thumbs, stare at the last sentence I wrote.
Writing for me is not a job. It’s a passion, a need, a drug of sorts. To be in the world I’ve created for my characters is so much more pleasant than being in the world I’ve made for myself. I can’t count the number of books I’ve read over these 60+ years in which I wish I could crawl between the covers and become a character within.
My Muse is a fickle bitch and at the moment she’s left me hanging, right in the middle of a scene. I don’t hate her for that. She is the love of my life and I know she’ll come back. She always does and I always greet her at the door, a smile on my face, my netbook open and ready.
A game of cards, anyone? Perhaps a movie? There’s drinks in the frig and chips on the table. Just keep in mind I might slip away if She shows up. I’m sure you can find your own way out the door and home. I mean, I love ya, ya know, love your company, but writing, writing is what I do.