Muses With Horns
Most writers have sort of muse--a voice in their head, a family member, the cat who only talks to them...
I have several muses. Today I'm going to post about the mean ones who can be destructive.
The very definition of muse is "the embodiment and sponsor of the arts". That should be a good thing. However, I've learned the 'bad' ones can be just as creatively empowering.
Perhaps you'll recognize these:
He likes to whisper. Soft or loud, his words are vicious.
"You can't do this. You won't make money at it. Give up. Get a real job-I hear McDonald's needs a fry salter."
He's one I growl at while pressing on. He's one I'll happily squish when my advance arrives. He's one who will regrow while I'm working on the next one.
"They did my idea first. They get more traffic/blog hits. If I had the big-name agent like Friend, I'd be a best-seller by now."
I can gag her for long periods, but one flash and she's back puffing on my shoulder.
My work is mine. It will happen as its meant to and what are you wearing? shuts her up too.
He sings, he dances, he specializes at waving shiny things in my face.
"Oooh, have you seen this? It would be great research! Let's have some fun, a new 'Narnia rap' is online. You never read anymore! That new fic site is updated! Did you call customer service about that billing glitch? You need to watch that tape to return it before you get a late fee! Just one more game of Hearts and we'll do the rest of the chapter right afterward!"
He's sneaky. I often bribe him with five minutes and he'll reset time so thirty pass. He hides, letting me get started, and then pops out with the latest, greatest, newest, shinest, coolest, bestest thing I have to check out right this minute and isn't life supposed to be about doing what you want?
He is the hardest one to work around, yet the reason I have so much to do. He takes me further. Boy meets Girl isn't enough. Boy needs friends who need names who need secondary plots who need lands who need worlds who need entire races who need other races that Girl belongs to who needs friends who need other plots and other lands and ...
Where was I?
There are others too. They gang up with these three and make sure my day is filled and very little gets productively accomplished. They hit all the vulnerable parts. They make me self-conscious and paranoid. They laugh at wrinkles created by fretting over ignorable details.
I'm learning to work better with them all. They make me sit down and examine just why I want to be a writer and how I can be my best. I accept them as the flip-side of the ones who whisper and flutter great names, lines of dialogue and descriptions into my head.
I would tell you more about them if I could just find that list
When was the last time I checked eBay?