by Beth Diane Bradley
At first, it made my heart sing. I couldn’t wait to share it with the world. And then I found a typo.
I am a writer. The first draft of anything I write is like a newborn baby. It’s perfect until I take a second look, and realize it’s covered in afterbirth.
Like many writers or artists, I rely very heavily on the muse. Some days the muse impregnates me with an idea so fully developed it just bursts on to the page effortlessly, taking on a life of its own. But there are other times when the muse is nowhere to be found, and I wander alone in my head, despondent and barren of inspiration.
So where exactly does the muse go when we are not together? Does it cheat on me? Is it off inspiring some other creative soul while I write paragraph after paragraph of meaningless crap until it blesses me once again with its presence – or should I say present- a piece I know I cannot write alone, one that will surely become my new favorite child.
Are there gifts I could offer to bring the muse … milk and cookies, perhaps? Or gold, incense and myrrh? Maybe it would prefer soft music and candlelight, or Chinese takeout in those cute little white boxes. I’m flexible, really. I just want to get a handle on the status of our relationship.
I know, I bet it would like some kind of burnt offering or sacrifice. That idea does makes me a little nervous. I don’t want any bloodshed over my next writing project. If I swat a mosquito would that suffice? Or would a slightly charred burger on the grill be considered an acceptable offering?
I may never know the answers to these compelling questions. In fact, attracting the muse could just be a matter of luck. In case that’s true, I’d better plant a bunch of clover, adopt a Leprechaun, and buy a rabbits foot.
You can’t just lob off the foot of any rabbit, however. It must be obtained humanely, from a rabbit that has agreed to be a donor, prior to its demise. Because it just makes sense the muse will not emerge when there’s bad karma.
Maybe in order to research that theory, I should take a year off and go to India to meditate …. Um… wait a minute, I think that book has already been written. Sorry Liz.