Muddling Through with My Muse

My muse is a complex creature, often contradictory, even contrary. I think of her as the Wild Woman archetype (beautifully explained by Amy Palko.)

I love her wildish nature, I admire her refusal to conform, I wish I was as strong and brave and vibrant as she is.

Sometimes, we don’t see eye to eye and she sulks. Or I sulk. Or we rage and weep and tear our hair out at each other. But mostly she just wants to play, to explore, to have wild adventures; she doesn’t really mind how or where and she’s usually happy to have me along as travelling companion. Unless I try telling her we’re going the wrong way again. She doesn’t care. She likes to go the wrong way.

She likes getting lost.

Since the beginning of the year, she has blessed me with her company. And she has been truly lovely company, full of wonder and whimsy, full of questions, full of enthusiasm. She has loved making a mess with papier mache, is very excited about anything to do with recycling, she relishes diving into my ribbons and beads and keeps nudging me about the garden.

But when it comes to writing – when I say, “Hey! Let’s do some writing today! What about a blog post? We haven’t written one for ages and I have loads of ideas!” – she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders and flounces off into another room.

I just ignore her negativity, make a cup of coffee, sit down at the kitchen table and write anyway. I write, thinking curiosity will get the better of her and she’ll come in to see what I’m doing. I write. Because sometimes I know she likes to watch me doing something before she gets involved. Perhaps she just likes to prove how much I need her! But I think it’s more to do with the fact that she likes to work with me. She knows we work better when we work together. As much as I need her inspiration, my enthusiasm inspires her.

Sometimes, just my sheer dogged determination wins her round, but not when it comes to writing at the moment. I have numerous draft posts on here, about all kinds of things. Started enthusiastically, continued resolutely … but always petering out. My muse has even started siding with my internal critic: “He’s right! You know it’s rubbish. Just give up, come and play with papier mache instead.”

So the deal today is, if she helps me finish a post, then we can finish making that little papier mache key cupboard and mess around with daisies. So. She’s banished the critic and is sitting sweetly beside me. She’s not saying very much but at least she’s being agreeable, happy to snuggle up for a while and not mention any wild distractions until I’ve finished.

She’s even coming round to the idea of writing up our Heartmade notes this afternoon, with a little bribery: “We can use lots of colour and pictures. And we’ll have cake!”

Sometimes I want to hug her. Sometimes I want to shake her. Sometimes I want to throw something at her. I’m sure she feels the same about me.

But mostly, we muddle through together. Somehow.

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