Luring the Muse

Sometimes when you’re looking for a story, a poem, that essay or even a solution to a writing problem you have to lure in the ideas. Slyly, like fly-fishing. Tease the waters. Tap, tap, tap the water with the just perfect fly, play out the line. Wait. Wait some more. Let the sun heat your head and face, be careful where your shadow sprawls, let the breeze lap your senses and the water and tree smells coast over you. Let everything drift away like so much debris.

Like scrambled pictures you look at to see pictures underneath, it’s best not to look directly at the picture. Focus beyond, look to the side, never straight on. Never push, for the harder you try the less likely the idea will come. Relax. Offer stimuli, thought, silence and observation.

Watch the little redheaded girl trying to catch grasshoppers in the field. Notice everything about her and find your truths in the picture. Test your thoughts about life. Never forget to collect experiences.

Writing is lonely stuff. Solitary work. Most writers, most artists have done as I have-lowered their head, plow the road to publishing by sitting at their desk writing.

It’s what writing advice tells us to do. Butt in chair until blood, sweat or tears appear. It’s true. We must put in the hours, write the million words so a hundred are diamonds. We must do the writing, but we must not forget to live either. Do the things you love, you need. Open to life and when the unexpected comes: when the dog finds the mud, the water pitcher breaks, the kids call, the neighbors keep you awake, the car breaks down, a new baby arrives remind yourself that you are looking for something real to write about and you just found it.