"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story" --Homer, The Odyssey
My brain is clogged today. I sat down to write a blog post today. It was a half assed attempt to make good on a renewed vow to commit to my own personal creativity on a d̶a̶i̶l̶y̶ ̶ weekly basis.
And my muse has decided not to show.
I begged, I pleaded, I tried to show her I've changed. I'm different now. My promises are no longer empty. I'll make time for you. I swear. Just.be.here.NOW.
I won't ever take you for granted, again. PLEAAAASEE.
I think she reacted like an insolent child and a scorned spouse all wrapped up into one... I could almost taste the venom in the sarcasm soaked response ...
Oh goody goody. It's my time now? Oh yay! Let me see if I can pull some pullitzer prize winning prose out of my ass.
(dramatic pause - my muse is quite theatrical, apparently) ...
I was ready a month ago at the Write Yourself into Motion Workshop. I was ready to pour it all out in PDX yet you felt the need to not stay an extra day to rest and digest. You high tailed it back home to tackle closet clutter, bill paying, CSS coding, lawyer meetings, bank refinancings and other oh so thrilling life experiences. I was ready in Florida, in San Luis Obispo and in every other not so far flung locale you've taken me to. I am ready at home too. Waiting. Yet you kept putting me off with flimsy excuses--I'm too busy. I'll create later. I'll do this someday.
But I was primed and pumped and ready to put pen to paper.
But guess what. I can't create on command. I need artistic foreplay. Wine me and dine me, sit with me in silence. Hold my hand.
And Stop feeding me with cyber junk food and useless facebook posts.
This is it. I meant it.
I'm becoming withered up, dried out and pissed off.
With Love and lots of eye rolling,
Of course my muse is full of snark and spark and ready to rip my head off. I have done all of the above and then some. I've done no nurturing of our relationship, I've taken her out on zero artist dates. I have only shown up rather sporadically at the page now for m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶s̶ years. I've made empty promises, committed to shitty first drafts, then abandoned it all for an h̶a̶l̶f̶ ̶h̶o̶u̶r̶ hour and a half of mindless and shallow social media postings. It's the ultimate irony of someone who writes a lot for others...
I learned in therapy, years ago, that there's a basic formula for trust. Trust = consistent behavaior/time. So my muse trusts that I'll cheat on her for busy work any day of the week, because that's what I've done oh so consistently in the last year. And as my 7th grade math teacher used to say, it won't make a "hill of beans" difference in our relationship if I just keep giving her lip service.
So it's time to make my actions louder than my words and get back to a consistent creative practice. One that doesn't play second fiddle to facebook or online bill paying or organizing closets.
Care to join me in making up with my muse? I'd be honored if you followed along here and maybe you need some inspiration to make up with your muse too?
PS If you've been on my mailing list for EVAH and have barely heard boo from me, thank you for still being here. And, of course, feel free to unsubscribe if what I'm up to no longer resonates with what you're up to. I'm still creating web sites, pretty graphics, writing copy and making out-of-the-box marketing campaigns for my amazing LaRock Star clients. And I'm squeezing in some me time too.
PPS Actual classes coming this fall ... marketing AND creativity (together and separate), keep an eye out here or shoot me an email with what would be your dream class design.
Thank you, again, for sharing this creative space with me. Here's to beating resistance. one blog at a time. xo