Grudging Muses

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Today I don’t actually feel like talking about writing.  Not really.

I’ve been in a rut.  I feel like me and Mr. Muse (just decided he’s male and probably a Taurus–and I’m a Leo, so yeah)…well, we’re not communicating with each other right now–or rather, he doesn’t want to communicate with me.  Working together is just blah.  All he keeps saying is, “You’re falling behind on your weekly editing quota and not giving it your all, which means you’ve got work to do; you should do it.”  No remorse, no words of encouragement.  Just the cold hard facts.

Heartless slave driver.

Apparently I missed the part where we had to be bound by the hip 24/7, making googly eyes with one another like we aren’t past the honeymoon stage.  Yeah, well, newsflash: that ended about 3.5 years ago.

“You know what?  I’ve made good over the past four and a half years, constantly feeding you with inspiration–“

Yeah, I remind him, but it wasn’t always good.

Blank stare.  “You are so ungrateful.  I can’t always be on my A-game, you know–and neither can you, for that matter.”


“Or…is this even about what I think it is?  Is there…is there something else going on that I should know about?”

No comment from the peanut gallery.

Wait, his voice just faltered. *blinks* Hold on, now he thinks I’m cheating on him?  I take a couple of breaks and he accuses me of infidelity?

Like I need this.

Maybe we just need some distance from one another for a while, you know?  Or should I really just jump back on a stingy, recalcitrant horse?

(*snickers* Oh, he’s fuming now…)

Hmm… In either case, it won’t be pretty.

Make Up

Okay, last night we actually got some late-night work done and…it was good.  We felt the magic again.

Maybe I was just overreacting.  Maybe I felt too close to him (he always wants to spend time together) and I just needed, well, a break.  (He can be possessive, though not in a threatening way.)  Really, though, he isn’t so bad.

Most of the time.

I’ll officially go apologize to him later.  Getting inspired work done doesn’t quite count.

So how’s your relationship with your muse?

Is it as petty as mine, or do you pretty much get along?  Also, is yours male or female?

(You think I’m joking, but I’m quite serious.)


10 thoughts on “Grudging Muses

  1. Oh man, my muse is male and scorpio. I’m also a scorpio, so when we get into disagreements its all fire and doom. We used to have an unhealthy, on and off relationship, and if he were a boyfriend I’d have dumped him years ago. He’d come around on his own time, whenever he wanted, nevermind my waking hours or working hours.

    But, over the course of writing the novel, we ironed out our differences. Now he’s here whenever I show up to work. It’s not always easy, but at least I know we’ll get through to the end. (He hates editing though, and leaves that to me). Also he’s a morning person, and I’m not.

    Now I’m just starting to sound crazy. LOL

    I’m glad I’m not the only one who has conversations / arguments with her muse.


    • Yeah, I think we are the crazy ones here, Theresa, haha.

      Oh man, if my muse was the same sign as me…there would be perpetual drama!

      Glad things are working out now, though, between you two. 😉


  2. I don’t think you’re fighting with your muse. I think you’re fighting against yourself. There is something in every writer that feels like it is fighting against getting things out. The muse, inspiration or ‘the flow’ (as I call it) is the good stuff. It is what comes out of you, creates the stories, breathes life into your characters.

    But there’s another side, a Jungian Shadow inside as well. That drags at you, makes you procrastinate, second guess yourself. I know I have it and fight it and sometimes I win and sometimes it does.

    Writing is a war and it never ends. Even when you win and stuff flows, the battle is going to begin again tomorrow.

    Keep fighting.

    P.S. I don’t personify my ‘muse’. I think of it as a river or a flow of creativity inside me, connected to…no idea what. The collective unconscious? All I know is that if I sit down and write, it shows up. I just wish it showed up at editing time.


    • I think you’re right, though it is fun to pretend, heh. Look at things figuratively.

      And it can very much feel like a war. Not sure why but I’m always surprised when I come across a downturn, lol, (guess I hardly ever see it coming) though I usually get over it fairly quickly–after throwing a quick fit, or course (’cause I’m atmittedly dramatic like that when no one’s watching, heh).


  3. My muse is male, because he’s me.

    Which is to say, I figured out a long time ago that I can’t offload the burden of creativity onto a third party – imagined or otherwise. If there’s a problem with what I’m writing, or if I’m not feeling inspired, then there’s something wrong with me, and I need to figure out what that something is.

    For a lot of people, it seems, referring to their muse in the third person – personifying it or externalizing it – is probably helpful, maybe even therapeutic. For me, it’s not.

    I don’t feel like there’s some great story in the sky, waiting for me to channel it into existence. I don’t feel like there’s any semi-divine presence guiding my hand. Never mind that I do believe in divine or semi-divine beings; I just don’t think they’re actively involved in the work of my writing – but that power, that agency, has been granted to me, to make of it what I will. So, I just have to do my best and write what I can… The story comes from me, from my experiences, and the collection of knowledge that I have acquired in this life.


    • I think that’s the most practical way to look at it, though I can’t always see right away what the problem is. I suppose that’s why I was personifying it yesterday, heh. Sometimes if I get a little distance from a problem I can understand it better.

      In my case, I’ve been expecting a lot of myself, so if I don’t live up to my expectations it can seem like a failure rather than a need to reevaluate the situation and my expectations.


      • Hey, nothing wrong with imagining a muse for yourself. 🙂

        It just doesn’t quite work for me. I’ve never really thought of my writing and talent in that way. In some ways, I guess, I fear it cheapens me and my own ability if I ascribe it to an external power. Like I’m not really integral to the process of creation – I’m not important – I’m just lucky enough to have caught the attention of the idea fairy.

        But I like feeling important… 😉


  4. Tiyana,

    I thought it was clever and creativity to have a conversation with your muse. Why not, writers talk to their characters or our characters talk to us all the time. I believe if we worry too much about where our creativity comes from and if we identify with that creativity we can become lost. Be serious about the writing, yes, serious about ourselves, hell, no!

    Whether one thinks the muse lies inside our consciousness or is a beam of light from the heavens, the genius that is the muse is more likely to be awoken if one is receptive and open. Playing with your muse is one way. 🙂



    • Hi, Elizabeth, and thank you!

      Even though I have no idea where creativity comes from (God is my guess, heh), I don’t really feel it’s something I can entirely own. Still, I’m grateful to have it! (And for the opportunity to play with it. ;))


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