The Muses: Of Greek origin. Considered the givers of knowledge, providers of inspiration. Well that’s all well and good if yours is not a sadistic bitch.
I do not have a tangible, physical muse. Mine is of internal origins. And she hates me.
Most writers (or artists in general) make generic references to a muse because it is a convenient and apt way to describe inspiration, or lack there of. I love to write. I have a dozen stories/writing ideas floating around my brain at any given time; however, trying to actually sit down and write any of them, well that’s another story. Some may just call it time management issues or writer’s block. The writer’s block part I could maybe concede to. But it’s not the “ideas” that I consider my inspiration. It’s the ability to take that idea and turn it into a beautiful piece of written art. And that’s where my muse gets her sadistic bitch title.
Imagine this: The Xanax is just hitting my system, mixing beautifully with that half glass of wine I just had (always very careful about combining the two). I’m a little woozy. My body is relaxing. My eyelids are getting heavier and heavier. And BAM! my brain focuses. Words flood in. Images take control. Sentences and metaphors, characters and plots, form in perfect harmony. DAMN IT! I’m ready to sleep. My body wants nothing more than to sleep. But my brain wants nothing more than to pull out the computer and start writing.
My muse has just used her powers to counteract my attempts to drive off insomnia. She provides the undesired antidote to my brain calming medications. I would love to say she used her powers for evil, but the writing can be so good. I just think her timing is evil. She has a sick sense of humor. I rarely get that same kind of inspiration while the sun is shining and I am entirely sober. Nope – my muse, she likes the intoxication. To be quite honest with you, I think she may have a substance abuse problem – NOT ME – my muse.
Anyways, Yes, my muse is a sadistic bitch. But to be quite honest, I don’t know what I would do without her. I am entirely dependent on her and forever indebted to her. So, even though I hate the bitch, I can’t live without her and don’t want to.
“Write drunk, edit sober” ~ Ernest Hemmingway