Writer Seeks Muse. Don’t Be Creepy.
Sometimes, creativity needs a jolt of inspiration.
Inspiration is sometimes hard to come by. Creativity is often difficult to harness. Without both of these things, a writer can find herself dead in the water. Add a muse to the equation and you can stave off death.
Muses don’t need to be young and pretty and female. As if the title of muse is only bestowed upon women. Being a muse is an equal opportunity position. Diego Rivera was a muse for Frida Kahlo. From the great pain and joy of their marriage came amazing work.
In the last year that I have been writing, I only had a muse for a short period of time. He wasn’t what you would imagine a muse to be. Muse carries this weird idea of an ethereal spirit that invokes a highly mystical quality.
The truth of the matter was that he was middle aged, upper level corporate salesman from Ohio who lived in California. He wore an undershirt all day, every day, under everything.
Still, he was my inspiration.
I don’t know that my writing necessarily resonated with him. He respected it. He appreciated it. More than anything, he believed in me in a way that few people have. During the period that we spent time together, my writing flourished.
It wasn’t that I felt compelled to write anything about him necessarily. I just felt a wide open desire to write. He encouraged me in a way that was incredibly meaningful.
Male writers and female writers are very different beasts. Women can read male writers and swoon. Women can be drawn to these men and enraptured by them. The details don’t necessarily matter.
I hold that I don’t know a single female writer that has had a man fall at her feet because of her writing. Simply, it seems to me that men aren’t built that way. There doesn’t seem to be a long line of men waiting to fill the role of muse.
I tell men I write all the time. Recently, I met a man and mentioned that I wrote and where I wrote. I was absolutely floored when he texted me and told me that he found my writing, read it and enjoyed it.
Most men don’t even care enough to ask what I write. If they do, after hearing that I write personal narrative and op-ed focused strongly on women’s issues, the same thing usually happens. They totally check out.
So what’s a girl to do?
I don’t want someone to give me ideas to write about. I want someone who makes me feel like living. Someone who inspires me to see life differently, find beauty, savor moments.
Finding this inspiration is what compels me out of solitude and out into the world to meet people and find adventure. If I don’t have this, my creativity will dry up and wilt like an old house plant.