Testimonials to the Muse
The various ways writers express their relationship with the muse —
Even though the muse are academically deemed to be mythical beings (of Greek
mythology), in our brief overview of the muse it was stated “nonetheless the muse are
considered effectively real” (in the opinion of most writers). However, what
seemed to be lacking in that overview was some ‘testimonials’.
While perhaps thousands upon thousands of writers have made reference to the
muse, thus acknowledging them in effect, often endearingly, often humorously in
order to conceal their otherwise fervent belief in the muse, we are now seeking
a collection of these ‘muse experiences’ in order to demonstrate the prevalence
of this phenomenal (thus spiritual) relationship. We are pleased to begin with this funny
‘testimonial’ by Deanna Mascle.
Why I Killed My Muse-- And You Should Too
By Deanna Mascle
Last night, in the dark following midnight I killed my muse (suffocating her quietly
with a pillow) and buried her in my back garden. Today I will plant a roses to hide
the grave. No one will ever know and I will be free at last of her insidious hold and
I will be able to write what I want.
Why did I resort to this deed? After all my muse was lovely and gave me many gifts
over the years. She saw me through dark times and helped mark the joyous ones. Many
times she inspired me to reach for more and push myself beyond what I thought I could
achieve. Knowing all this why would I kill the very source of my inspiration?
Oh, I had my reasons...
It started out quietly. As I would sit at my keyboard or curl up with a notebook, she
would perch on my shoulder as was her wont to do. "I don't think you meant to write that
sentence," she would whisper in my ear. "That doesn't sound like the best description," she
would snipe. "Is that the best you can do?" she would sneer.
I took to sneaking my writing in when I knew she was occupied elsewhere. She never could
resist critiquing the writing in the morning paper if it was left spread on the kitchen
table. That way I could sometimes write several pages before she began her commentary. "Surely
you can find a better way to approach this topic," her mocking voice would interrupt.
"That has been so done."
Soon I was spending more time arguing with her, defending my words, than I was writing.
Then my production slowed to a crawl as I would overanalyze each word choice and sentence
formation before committing it to screen or paper. All that did was give her more time to
find fault with the few words I did write.
Despite urgent deadlines and simmering ideas, I started avoiding the computer and all writing
materials. I cleaned my house. I read for hours on end. I made plans for a new garden. The need
the write built within me but always my muse was watching me with those eyes -- so judgmental,
so critical. I would turn away from my office with a sigh and find some other project.
When I could no longer suppress the urge to write I locked her in a closet and had a wonderfully
productive morning. I was so happy with my work that I let her out as I went out the door to run
some errands. That just made her mean.
She was waiting for me at the door when I came home. Her glasses had slid nearly to the tip of her
nose and somehow she'd found a red pencil (I certainly never brought any such thing into the house).
I shuddered at the sight of my happy morning's labor marred by vicious slashes of red. The red
blurred before my eyes into a crimson haze and then...
Perhaps it is better that you don't know the details. Suffice it to say that I have selected several
old-fashioned roses with luscious aroma and delicate coloring. I am sure they will provide both
inspiration and comfort.
Despite my late hours and the physical toil involved, this morning I awoke early and have already
logged in several hours at the keyboard. My fingers flew across the keys and after completing several
long-stagnant projects I outlined notes for some new. Writing is joyful and rewarding again.
I think I might dedicate this next book to the memory of my muse. Perhaps it will serve as a warning
to those other muses out there who are on the verge of going over the edge. Perhaps it will inspire
those other writers out there who have let their muse stifle their creativity and shove them right
into writer's block. Maybe my warning will mean those other muses and their writers will find a way
to work things out.
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About the Author: Deanna Mascle has been teaching and writing professionally for more than 20 years.
Find more articles about writing at Word Craft
Source: www.isnare.com
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