Saturday 9 January 2010

What Muse?

A few months ago, Matt left a link to a talk given by author Elizabeth Gilbert on the subject of creative genius, and I find it has stuck with me. Thanks Matt! I've always liked the idea of treating my muse as a real being, but as that's also a bit daft I usually talk myself out of it. But now it feels like Elizabeth Gilbert has given me permission, and after all, what better explanation is there for the source of creativity?

My muse is a woman. Most of the time. Let's say she's called Natasha and today she looks a bit like Rachel Weisz. I'd like to say she stands behind me in her underwear and whispers the secrets of creation in my ear as I type, but sadly it rarely works like that. Mostly she wears a sensible trouser suit and pins her hair back, and she taps her watch as she administers inspiration: 'chop, chop, Taylor – I'll be back in an hour to see how you're getting on.' And sometimes she doesn't turn up at all. But I'm not complaining. After all, if she sat on my lap I wouldn't be able to concentrate, and like many writers I struggle to work with someone else in the room anyway.


But much as I long for Natasha's visits, she can be infuriating. Her favourite trick – and I think this is standard behaviour with Muses – is turning up when I have an armful of family life and telling me something wonderful that just has to be acted on straight away. Most writers are breezy about how they keep notebooks about the place for just such moments, but we all know that's easier said than done. So inevitably some of those flashes of brilliance get accidentally folded into a dirty nappy and lost. Well, that's my excuse anyway.


Probably the worst thing about Natasha's absences is her locum. I'm going to call him Boris, and he looks like Jean Reno, only without the humour. Boris wears a grubby raincoat and smokes Gauloises. When Natasha's not there, it's Boris who keeps me hard at it, muttering about word count and plot holes while he helps himself to my whisky. I'm not sure Boris really believes in me. He's the one who reminds me of the credibility gap that exists between published novelists and 'pretenders' like me. He also delights in pointing out that not one of my ideas is original and that Natasha is probably seeing someone else. I don't like Boris, but I think I need him, partly to make Natasha's company all the more desirable, but also to keep me from vanishing up my own ego.

Natasha's here as I write this, though sadly she's not wearing her pearls today. Boris is here too, telling me that blogging is a waste of time, but for once he's changed his shirt. And look – I wrote something!

So how about you? Is there anything you'd like to share about your muse? Or do you get your ideas from a box under the bed?

30 comments:

  1. With Rachel Weisz, alias Natasha, sat on your lap, wearing pearls (ugh!!!) there's really no hope for your ego!!! You smut merchant!! (Not that I read anything into any of those references at all! Btw, if you were trying to increase your female readership/bloggership, you could have just posted a pic of Eric Bana, alias Henry DeTamble, and have been done with it - wouldn't have been as clever or amusing though)...

    Made me laugh!

    I have a muse and funnily enough he looks a bit like Daniel Craig but he's always being dragged away by some sensible Alice in Wonderland type who has more brains than to venture down a rabbit hole.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ha ha, thanks Rachel. Oh, what's your surname again?

    I really must read The Time Traveller's Wife. Right now It's several books down the pile though.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks for the laugh! I just flew over from Nicola Morgan's birthday party.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Visitor from Nicola's Party here! (Throws confetti).

    I haven't spent much time connecting with my muse, but if I have to think about it, he's a naughty little boy. Probably around eight years old with rusty hair and freckles galore. He's full of mischief and likes to give me ideas at the worst possible moment. When I'm in a dry spell, nothing, but the minute I have one "good" idea, another ten come flooding in and I'm left wondering which to go for first.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Now I know where I'm going wrong as a writer - I haven't got a muse! If I did, I would probably want him to look like Harrison Ford.
    I loved reading about your muse(s) though. And the illustrations were great.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Over here from Nicola's blog party (glugs some wine).

    I'm not sure if I have a muse, if anything it's an empty playing field next door to where I live, it turns up in so many different guises in my stories, I walk past it or through it and it goes "Write about me, write about me", maybe it's something to do with the land once being owned by the same lady who also owned reportedly one of the most haunted houses in Britain. Haunted playing field anyone?

    ReplyDelete
  7. No! I want Harrison Ford! I am prepared to compromise - I'll take Hans Solo and leave you the rest...


    xxxxx

    ReplyDelete
  8. Me too, here from the party at Nicola's. Enjoyed your post. I have watched that E Gilbert thing several times. Great stuff.

    As for Boris, I'd try not to pay him the attention he demands. The gap between being published and not published is only a stroke of luck away when your writing is good. And being published is only one step on the journey. Far more important is being read... and I have read and enjoyed something on your blog. Tell that to Boris when he next turns up.

    Best of luck

    Douglas

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hi Thomas,

    Just dropping in from Nicola's. No muse at this address. Although I wouldn't say no to David Tennant dropping by. Probably wouldn't get any work done though.

    Feel free to hop over to my new blog where you might get to meet other children's authors.
    http://childrenswritersbookclub.wordpress.com/

    ReplyDelete
  10. Hey, just popped in from Nicola's. Enjoyed your post. Made me laugh. As for my muse, she's trembling in a cupboard under the stairs because she's worried I've bitten off some unchewable stuff.

    All the best for your writing, sir.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Thanks for all the comments! I'll try to visit all your blogs in the next day or two.

    Thanks, Amanda. I like the sound of your rather Puckish muse.

    Sheila, you can have Harrison Ford if you want him -- muses come in all shapes and colours. Natasha was a frumpy old bag lady when she first appeared.

    Lacer, a haunted playground is a fine muse indeed! Thanks for stopping by.

    Thanks for the comment, Kate. Please fight over Harrison outside.

    Douglas, thanks for that. Boris could do with a smack in the gauloise from time to time.

    Thanks, Jo. David Tennant would be very inspirational. I'll go and investigate your blog ASAP.

    Thanks, Michael. I know that feeling! Good luck with it, and remember to chew each mouthful at least 20 times:)

    ReplyDelete
  12. A late visitor from Nicola's. I liked the blog and laughed at it but it made me realise I don't have a Rachel (Weisz or Fenton) entity, nor a Boris. I just have this grumpy old bugger who looks and sounds like me and sometimes scans my stuff and says 'Well, I suppose it's OK' but more often uses inadmissible words about it. I think your way is better.
    I ought also to echo Rachel's point about using pictures. A photo of a male six pack (illustrating a posting about the contents of bras) brought a surprising number of readers to one of my blogs.

    ReplyDelete
  13. I am sorry to intrude on your blog but I have been rather dismayed by the way Douglas Bruton is deceiving people into believing that he is nothing more than a wronged writer, who has simply used ideas that are free to be used by everyone. The pebbles on the beach idea was a lovely ethereal one..but it is very very far from the truth. For example, Mr Bruton stole a whole story from one writer, a story that had been already published in a book. The story was identical: plot, sequence of events, unusual elements...the only thing that was changed is the character's name. One was Henry, the other Harry. Mr Bruton's story went on to win a prize in a competition but it was later withdrawn by the organisers of the competition. He has serially stolen work from trusted friends, even famous authors. He simply cannot help himself and has constantly put himself before friends. Have you not noticed that he does not mention any other writers on his blog? The man is completely self-obsessed and to be honest, increasingly strange.

    Vanessa Gebbie is not mad. Or at fault here. He constantly goads her (e,g mentioned Dodie as a 'funny name' when he knows that this the main character in one of her prizewinning stories) Ms Gebbie is a resourceful and talented writer, who who has mentored many other writers. She is an astonishing person and if you met her, you would be impressed by her dynamic and passionate feeling for all things literate.

    I would urge you not to trust Mr Bruton, who is now attempting to rally support. Solicitors have been involved in this matter; it is not heresay or the rantings of a 'mad' woman at all. Rather an intelligent one who is being increasingly rattled by Mr Bruton's games.

    I wish you great luck with the novel and good writing.

    ReplyDelete
  14. I hadn't thought about having a muse. If I did it would probably look like a high school yearbook with all of the voices floating around in my head. Whoever has the loudest voice when ink hits paper or fingers tap keys is the one let out for the day.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Thanks, Bill. I'll search out a hunky pic for my next post, see if that does the trick. Anyway, your grumpy old bugger sounds a lot like Boris to me.

    Anonymous, thanks for commenting. Obviously, not knowing anyone in this affair, I don't know which side of the story to trust. When I visited Douglas Bruton's blog -- repaying the compliment -- I was surprised to find myself in the middle of some sort of dispute, and almost refrained from commenting. Probably I should have done, especially because -- as I say -- I can't be sure who to trust.

    Oh dear. I'll just keep out of it from now on, but thanks for taking the time to write what you did, and for the good wishes.

    Sometimes it's a good thing for writers to be solitary.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Thanks, The Voice. I like that analogy.

    ReplyDelete
  17. I've never been visited by a muse, to my knowledge. One thing that's possible is that she or he was scared off by my army of Cabbage Patch Kids, who are trained to attack burglars.

    ReplyDelete
  18. I am feeling the same way about the 'being alone' thing. An ivory tower or something similar. Lovely. As a person loathing conflict. I always feel quite sick when I see friends fighting. Both Vanessa and Douglas were friends of mine - Vanessa still is - so I really do know in depth the truth of this matter. It is very hurtful.

    But enough of horrible things and again, I wish you a good wind with your writing. I like the gentleness of your writer's 'voice' and I may well come back as a normal and visible person to follow your progress. So all has not been negative, as I have stumbled across another interesting writer!

    ReplyDelete
  19. I'm via Nicola Morgan too. She' just run out of wine so I'm looking for the next thing...
    Your muse sounds great. I didn't know we could choose them. If so, it would have been a big Liam Neeson bear of a man for me, but alas, my muse is an oftentimes poo-throwing monkey-thing which frequently hangs upside down scratching its nether regions or screams ideas at me in a patter too fast for me to follow.
    And yet, I beg it to stick around and usually it does and a book eventually ensues.
    Thanks for the laugh. Good to find another interesting writer blog.

    ReplyDelete
  20. I am feeling the same way about the 'being alone' thing. An ivory tower or something similar. Lovely. As a person loathing conflict. I always feel quite sick when I see friends fighting. Both Vanessa and Douglas were friends of mine - Vanessa still is - so I really do know in depth the truth of this matter. It is very hurtful.

    But enough of horrible things and again, I wish you a good wind with your writing. I like the gentleness of your writer's 'voice' and I may well come back as a normal and visible person to follow your progress. So all has not been negative, as I have stumbled across another interesting writer!

    ReplyDelete
  21. I am sorry that anonymous has seen fit to drag my messy story onto your blog.

    I am not a plagiarist. And so much of what is said by anonymous is ill informed and plain wrong. If anyone feels inclined to see my side of the story please read my blog. I am not sly. On the contrary I am very open. Nothing hidden. all there to be read. i don;t ask you to agree with my views. But they are there with nothing hidden.

    Douglas

    ReplyDelete
  22. My muse is the Milk Tray man....I never see him, but he always leaves me good ideas that weren't there a second ago.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Anna, thanks for popping in. Cabbage Patch Kids are pretty scary even in daylight.

    Jo, the poo-throwing monkey thing muse must be exhausting. Thanks for that mental image!

    Matt, I remember the Milk Tray man. that would be a very subtle way of delivering inspiration. Perhaps you could set a trap.

    Anon and Douglas, thank you both for setting out two sides of what is clearly a difficult situation. I hope you can resolvve your differences one day. good luck!

    ReplyDelete
  24. Found you via Nicola's blog party yesterday. Loving the blog so far and will now follow.

    Still looking for my muse, so if he turns up then send him on over :-)

    ReplyDelete
  25. Thanks, Bucks Writer. I'll ask Natasha -- she might know someone.

    ReplyDelete
  26. This was so funny, Thomas. Love Boris and Natasha.

    Two muses have I, as well. One shows up at first draft and gives me great ideas and loves everything I write and tells me, "Oh, Ter, you are a genius, a bestseller for sure."

    The next day, when I go back to read my brilliant prose, her evil twin muse shows up and says, "What a bunch of crap."

    I like my good muse better, maybe not as much as you like Natasha of the pearls, though.:)

    ReplyDelete
  27. ha, Thanks, Terry. As if it wasn't hard enough already, eh?

    And thanks everyone for all the comments. You got that the pearls were metaphorical, right? Good:)

    ReplyDelete
  28. I'm a very late arrival from Nicola Morgan's blog party. I really enjoyed this post. I don't have a muse but I really want one now. If you ever get sick of Boris, send him my way.

    ReplyDelete
  29. This was HILARIOUS Thomas. You are a funny man. I don't think my muse has a name or a figure. She's a fickle thing though. She LOVES to give me new ideas, but doesn't like to help me see them through. We're fighting right now.

    ReplyDelete
  30. Thanks, Helen. You want Boris? Consider him yours.

    Natalie, I hope you win! Hair pulling is allowed.

    ReplyDelete

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.