I’m Jordan and I’m a writer who doesn’t have a muse. And I’m okay with that.
It seems like most writers, and other “creatives,” have a muse—an imaginary personification of their creative capacity. When “the muse strikes,” it’s time to write. When the muse kicks off for the day/week/year, we’re out of luck. It seems like the 
only time I hear about a muse is when it’s not doing its job:
- “My muse snaps her gum at me and rolls her eyes at my plot ideas.”
- “My muse goes after every shiny new idea that crosses my mind like a raccoon with gambling debts. Also, he’s in charge of my similes.”
- “My muse’s got nothin.”
Having a muse does alleviate some pressure to create (something I think I learned from Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED speech?). It can be draining and stressful to have to come up with everything yourself. If you’re stuck for an idea, dwelling on that fact can make you feel even less creative and more pressure to come up with something.
Maybe it’s pride, but I actually like coming up with ideas myself, or brainstorming with others. I like to think of myself as creative—and good enough and smart enough (and gosh darn it, people like me) to come up with solutions to my problems and ideas I can’t wait to write about. For the most part, I rarely disappoint myself—though it can be a little bit of a struggle when I’m burned out or just taking time off.
I think the biggest problem I have with muses is this idea that we’re abdicating the responsibility and the ability to create ourselves. Clearly not everyone with a muse does this, but some people use the muse less as a tool to encourage creative freedom and more as a slave driver.
As I said a few years ago in comments on a friend’s blog,
I think true genius is one that can still function as a normal human being while mastering his or her art. Those “geniuses” who ditch other people for their labs or their tablets because their fickle muse strikes them momentarily are at the mercy of capricious bouts of insight.
[The person she quoted] seems to be buying into the “genius is the ability to write pure, unmitigated, beautiful truths to power as they flow ceaselessly from my pen—while the muse lasts” school of thought.
For probably 99% of people, however, genius is the stroke of artistry that manifests itself while you’re trudging along—whether that trudging is through the other 70,000 words of your manuscript or through 70,000 diapers. “Genius” and talent, even taken together, rarely go anywhere without hard work, discipline and dedication.
What do you think? Do you have a muse? Is s/he a slacker, or does s/he work as hard as you?
Photo by Happy A
Your opening statement had me giggling! Sounds like you’re at an AA meeting.
Fiction writers have the right to create imaginary beings to share their writing space, but when those beings become scapegoats for lack of inspiration or productivity, I start thinking ‘excuses, excuses’. Ms. Muse and the Internal Critic get a bad rap. 🙂
Haha I never looked up what a muse was. I think I’m glad I don’t have one.
I’ll probably get in trouble for saying this, but I think the concept of a muse is just another way people try to externalize responsibility. Most productive writers know that “Butt in Chair” is a far better strategy for making forward progress than “waiting for the muse to strike.” It’s your own brain that’s doing the work. Give yourself credit.
I think of a muse as an inside joke. 🙂
HAHAHA! I love your post! The reason you don’t have a muse, is because she’s off getting nasty with mine. Hehe. I’m okay with that, I can think for myself, I don’t need him–I probably have too many ideas anyway.
Have fun Jordan and thanks for the chuckle.
I like to thank “my muse” (or wherever my good ideas come from) when good ideas strike. It’s a way of remaining in gratitude, and I like to think it keeps me open to more good ideas.
However, the muse concept can be misused. The muse shouldn’t be blamed for no good ideas. And “butt in chair” gets more work done than waiting for the muse to strike.
Just my two cents…
It’s absolutely important to be grateful to whatever source you see for ideas. Clearly not all inspiration comes from within us. (Being religious, I tend to go with God for that one.) Gratitude is something I’m working on, too. In fact, on one of my other blogs, I just finished a series on 101 things I was grateful for over 10 days.
Thanks, guys! Glad you enjoyed the post. I was a little worried about posting it, LOL.
The creative process can be so strange. I mean, where are all these ideas coming from? It does feel like there is an external source sometimes, so I can see where the idea of muse came from.
I have one. We don’t talk much, so I just get on with things. I’m trying to train him to clean the bathroom while I write.
Hate to say it, but I totally have a muse. Not all of my ideas are out of the air a la Muse, but the execution of those ideas requires some help from that ethereal source. I will scratch and scratch away at something without anything really “working” – and then all of a sudden, BAM, the switch flips, and everything clicks into place. It gets pretty annoying, honestly. Thankfully, deadline pressure somehow helps, and things do seem to flow when I work and work at it, but I wish I could just sit down and output awesomeness whenever I wanted to. It takes so much work to get things right.
AMEN, though, to what your friend said about hard work and diligence being part of the “genius” equation. I really did relate to Elizabeth Gilbert’s process in her TED preso (LOVE that you referenced it!), including when she said to her Muse “Look, I’ve showed up and am doing MY part, so it would be nice of you to do yours!” Can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt that way! In return, though, I’m also more apt to stop everything and write when inspiration strikes, since the Muse bothered to show up. Such a funny thing the creative process is.
I’ve never thought of a muse as such a saboteur. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have one either, I have enough problems with my writing without one:)