Thursday, 30 May 2013

My darling muse (the real life one!) AKA why I can't write...

Yes, yes, a lot of writers have muses. I'm with them on that. I appear to have a muse, a sort of personification of what little talent and inspiration for writing that I possess. She's a finicky creature, my muse, and often leaves me when I'm trying to write things - you know, important things like a chapter I've been procrastinating on, or an essay that I'd really like to get done.

So if a writer tells you they have a muse, believe them. Trust me, I have a muse, but it's a slippery devil and, right now, has decided to leave me alone with absolutely zero will or talent for writing. Also, something about the fact that I leave my house at 7:30am and arrive back at 6:00pm most days probably has something to do with that, too...

However, the topic of this post is a different muse of mine. A real life muse. One who's inspired me to write since the day I met him. Now, without going into too many details about this guy, I can safely write a boring post which I expect no one to read about him and why he's very interesting.

The main reason why my particular muse is interesting to me is because of how fascinating he is. He is not an attractive man, I grant you that; too thin, too old, too gangly to be of much attractive value save anyone who's actually interested in his bewitching personality. Of course, this all sounds batshit, and it probably is - but crazy or not, the man has a certain quality about him that just causes me to churn out reams and reams of writing; poems, short stories, novels, plays. Most of them are crap, but the few I like were all inspired in his presence.

For example, I finished Inamorata when he was around, and I got the idea for The Storm-Grey Sea when I saw him for the first time again in months. I've written the only poetry I actually like - poems from the perspective of a pair of former lovers - when I've been around him.

It's strange, really, because he doesn't even know I write. He's clueless to the effect he has on me in that way. Hell, he's probably also clueless to other effects he has on me, but those ones we'll leave out for the time being...

Why I bring this up is simple: I am without my muse, and am finding it difficult to write. I have had calls for an Inamorata sequel, and definitely others for a few one-shots, but how the fuck am I supposed to get anything done without something to inspire me? The hunt for a new muse is going terribly, with absolutely no one the right fit for a muse for Niamh.

So this general post has really been an excuse: I can't write because I'm without my muse. Goddamn it, I am trying my damndest, but it's nearly impossible. Never fear, though - I will see him again and hopefully get back to writing.

Toodle-oo for now, and I shall remain this crazy until next time.

1 comment:

  1. I enjoyed your blog post. Your muse makes me think of Robin from Inamorata. Below is something interesting called
    My Muse Went On Vacation by =knittingknots
    Literature / Poetry / Humor / Traditional Fixed Forms

    My muse went on vacation
    and took all my best thoughts
    and all my favorite phrases,
    and the bunnies with their plots,
    she ran off with all the fluff stuff,
    she ran off with the hero's sword--
    she left me sitting here alone,
    bemused and rather bored.

    My muse went on vacation
    To a sunny foreign clime,
    and left me sitting here alone
    without a word to rhyme,
    She's laying on a beach somewhere
    without a hint of snow,
    and leaving me with winter's chill
    and no place left to go.

    My muse went on vacation -
    I hope she's coming back
    With a healthy tan, a rosy glow
    and some fresh stuff to attack--
    I miss her interaction,
    how she drove me crazy mad,
    how I teased her for the things she said
    that came out rather bad.

    But since my muse went on vacation
    my writing's getting stale,
    no smexy dancing dreams to write,
    my words seem set on fail.
    I promise not to tease her
    if she'll only let me write -
    O hurry home, bright redhaired girl,
    or kiss career goodnight!