Oh, the Irony

We can't control The Muse.  She has a mind of her own, flittering about, landing wherever she pleases, whenever she pleases, dropping ideas on us or leaving us dry.

Her timing always seems to be a bit "off."  I've talked to other writers about this phenomenon too, how the creative process seems to hit at inopportune times -- in the middle of work, in the middle of a meeting, in the middle of driving, etc.  Rarely does my Muse decide to visit when I'm begging her to-- when I've got all the time in the world (like a precious summer!) and I'm itching to write.  Sure, I always have bits and bobs of ideas floating around.  But I didn't have the flood of creativity this summer I was hoping for.

Technically, I'm at the end of my summer.  In fact, I have one week left before the first big faculty meeting.  Before the whirlwind of students and planning and papers and duties and obligations.

And so, naturally, what happens today of all days??  The Muse decides to hit.  Ideas are flowing, wheels are churning.  Yes, I'm grateful.  But I'm also frustrated.  Because I've been struggling with a new novel for several weeks now, but nothing's really gelled.  Sure, I've had some good brainstorming sessions.  And I have worked.  But it's been mostly hit-and-miss....until today.  Ugh.  I finally, FINALLY feel "in the groove" with this story.  I can see the characters more vividly, and I know what I want them to do.

But now?  Time is running out.  It's not that I can't or don't write during school semesters.  But it's harder to do that.  It takes more commitment, more energy, to squeeze in those creative moments between essay-grading and faculty meetings.

Oh, well.  Guess I should be grateful the Muse showed up at all.  But man, she has a wicked sense of irony.  ;-)

Love this...

Open a book this minute and start reading. Don’t move until you’ve reached page fifty. Until you’ve buried your thoughts in print. Cover yourself with words. Wash yourself away. Dissolve. ~Carol Shields 


And this!


Books say: She did this because. Life says: She did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren’t. I’m not surprised some people prefer books. Books make sense of life. The only problem is that the lives they make sense of are other people’s lives, never your own.  ~Julian Barnes 



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