There is a lot of talk among the literary ‘how-to’ websites about an author’s source of inspiration: their so-called muse. We are told how muses are called upon by writers; or how she* appears — and disappears — by accident or whim; or (heaven forbid) never emerges at all.
* The original muses were apparently Greek goddesses, so I have adopted the female pronoun.
Captains Log, Stardate 2022.4
I’ve given this some thought while waiting for my muse to appear, as if Captain Kirk would dematerialize some poor sot of a muse away from an important creative work and transport her to my living room. And if one were to materialize, I doubt it would be a goddess. More likely a couch potato, tempting me into distraction by tuning into some mindless series, such as The Masked Singer or The Kardashians. Or possibly some intoxicated carouser tempting me away from my laptop and into the fridge or away to the tavern. In fact, I think those two scoundrels have already visited me on too many occasions; I just haven’t seen them — in the potato flesh.
Could it be that there is no such thing as a muse to provide the needed inspiration? Maybe inspiration is more closely associated with perspiration. If that’s the case, then hard work, discipline and resilience might be all that’s required to break the dreaded writers’ block. Plausible, but not very romantic.
One thing is certain: if I keep sitting on my sofa, musing about where my muse has gone, I’ll get no writing done whatsoever. Beam me to my study, Scotty!