Its 41 years since Burt Reynolds posed nude for Cosmo magazine. I’ve seen the picture, I’m impressed, I’d lick him, I mean I like the photo.
We writers need a muse, either the muse in us or the muse around us. For muse read inspiration.
What or who is the muse within?
Is she a creative genius who connects to cosmically download awesome writing or is she the quiet voice within who gives us our head space to concentrate on what we want to say, to draw from our inner resources and quiet inspiration, the stuff that is within if only we believed that we could write?
According to Stephen Kind it’s a he and he smokes cigars whilst you write.
“There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement kind of guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you. Do you think it’s fair? I think it’s fair. He may not be much to look at, that muse-guy, and he may not be much of a conversationalist, but he’s got inspiration. It’s right that you should do all the work and burn all the mid-night oil, because the guy with the cigar and the little wings has got a bag of magic. There’s stuff in there that can change your life. Believe me, I know.”
So where might we find our muse?
Walking the dog
Often when I am stuck for words or need to reflect on what is going on a shot of fresh air and a run around with Ferdy dog is just what I need. Not only that you can meet some pretty cool and odd characters to shoot the breeze with, who knows where those odd conversations will lead your writing.
The naked man
I had to add him back in, because taking some time out with your man or woman is just what you need to give your brain cells a dose of oxytocin. You know the stuff that is shot into the female brain on orgasm. For those that don’t know it’s the love hormone and it gives you a sense of well being, which is great for your writing.
The depths of despair
Not that I am encouraging to feel sad, lonely or lost, but so many people tell me that their best writing comes when they feel rubbish. I know that when I was in the pits writing became my saviour and I think that because writing is so cathartic, we open ourselves up to the opportunity to write and heal.
Conversations in the pub
As the happy juice lays claim to our sense of reason and verbal diarrhoea takes over, the flow of unconscious silliness abounds. Once again I am not recommending a bender, merely the odd glass or perhaps to take a quiet tea in the corner of an interesting bar and watch life inspire you.
Around the home
How often do we notice what is right under our noses. The way that the dirty linen lays spilt unforgotten on the bed room carpet and the crumpled duvet thrown and abandoned as you rush off to greet your day. The dirty dishes piling up, green goo in the sink from your attempt to juice with wheatgrass each day. Look at your daily debris and ask how can this inspire your writing?
The daily news
Death, destruction, war and famine, sensationalism, stuff, financial crisis, stuff, things and droning on about the chaos of the world as it self destructs. There must surely be a nugget or two in there?
In your head
My muse lives with me in the quiet solitude that is me, the gaze into space, the thoughtful connection to my inner self, the me that laughs, cries, screams, loves, wonders and searches within for my answers in the droplets of inspiration that hang invisably all around.
Please share with me, who or where is your muse?