Thursday, May 13, 2010

The Writing Life

To My Muse

For years I fought you tooth and nail
Get out of here
you pushy thing
you thing!

But no.
You persevered, you sat on the edge of my desk
wearing a work cover-all with all those loops for hammers and such.
You leaned on my computer and sneered at me for going down the wrong
rabbit hole again and again.
You thought it was positively hilarious that word count was so important to me.
You called me obsessional and neurotic and self-satisfied.

When I'd be happily in the woods taking in the sylvan goodness
you'd spoil it by suggesting, ever so slyly that my protagonist
didn't know herself. That the antogonist wasn't, that there was indeed

What do you know of conflict? you asked, not expecting an answer.
What do you have that needs to see the light of day anyway?

Worse was when you wouldn't show up for work at all.
You'd call me from some bar and say you couldn't be bothered since you didn't really exist anyway.

You'd found another writer, you'd tell me. One who will work AT NIGHT and isn't taking up the accordion, embroidery, basil farming, chicken rearing, French cooking, spring cleaning, family dramas, West Wing/Dr.Who/The Birth of the Blues, good works, old friends,photography, new friends, sex and doing her taxes. Someone who was DEDICATED to becoming a novelist. A real writer. Humph, you'd snort.

Is it the Tartlett? I'd ask, trying not to whine. (it was the snorting)
Never mind you said. None of your business who. What are you going to do about it?

I sat at my computer numbly. Could I do it without you? I showed up. I did my thousand but inside I was a wreck. I kept at it. Just one word after another like I was walking on the moon looking for craters, for life, for some cheese.

Yesterday morning, you came home. You waltzed in whistling a mysterious tune. You gave me a flowering branch of willow and dark chocolate and an idea for the plot. You kissed me behind the ear and told me I was going to make it.

I won't let you down!


Rayna M. Iyer said...

All the best, Jan!

L. Diane Wolfe said...

Fickle muses!!

Gardeningbren said...

love the Carhartts...always gets my heart racing!))

Talli Roland said...

Love this! Oh, those tricksy muses...

Watery Tart said...

*snort* I'd NEVER have a muse with Pants, Jan! You know that! I swear I didn't steal him!

I love this little tale! I'm glad he came back! I hope he sticks around and you get tons done!

Jan Morrison said...

hello all goils - thanks for dropping by. He seems to be still here - I'm liking it. If my muse didn't have pants on, I'd never get any work done! And this is a family blog. Well, that's not true but hey! OK back to work now. He's calling me - only three thousand left and then I can drink iced de-caf tea and so on...

Jemi Fraser said...

Muses are so tough to nail down! Wish they'd stay put!

arlommoen said...

How can you do all this and write books too?
Hsve you been to the memory
Distractions! Distractions!

Anonymous said...


I am happy for you, it's a long drafty time without them, isn't it?

I loved the willow branch - an allusion to aspirin?

Jan Morrison said...

hi arlo - jeesh - these are old comments but hey!
Denise - oh yes - reuniting is sweet! but usually short-lived, alas, alack