Water reflection
Reflections of a building in the waters of Lake Conroe, Texas. Copyright by WyoJones. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

I was digging around in the hub’s photo stream, looking for some blog inspiration and found the above photo.  Visually it is pretty cool, IMHO, but beyond that I was like, wow, that reminds me of how stories come to me. I’m a pantster, an into-the-mist, have-no-clue-what-is-going-to-happen-next novelist. So this image is kind of like a peek into my Muse’s brain.

I had thought about looking for something to represent MY brain, but yeah, that might scare you. Or me. Not that my brain doesn’t scare me right now, but no reason to boost the scare factor. It’s like the monster in the closet. If I don’t make eye contact, it’s not there, right?

When I first embarked on the grand adventure of becoming a writer, then an author, I had no idea what my Muse was like. I read a lot of books that told me what those authors’ Muses were like, but the fit was not perfect. Their lure-the-Muse techniques did not always work for me. It was kind of like, when my kids asked me to help them with their math and so I did and then they’d tell me, “That’s not how you do it, Mom.” And then they’d help me with their math.

Blink. Blink.

Anyway, ahem, writing. Sometimes reading a lot of how other people do stuff only teaches you how not to do something (not that the gurus are wrong, but they can be wrong for you if you’re not yet confident or haven’t learned your own process and Muse requirements). It took me a while to learn the pattern and language of my Muse.

That’s not to say we (the Muse and I—hmmm, future reality show?) don’t have our issues when we’re starting a new project. Which is why that photo really spoke to me. Writing a novel is a lot like building a house or something. But unlike a house, a story comes to me in bits of pieces. Sometimes I can’t see one element because another element is too bright or too there. And the image puts a pretty face on what is actually a very messy process.

And the other upside is that now I know my process, I kind of know where I am in that process and (mostly) have the patience to wade through it to where it all becomes clear. How is this for putting a good spin on something that regularly kicks my tush?

Do you have a creative process? Are you in search of one? For only a mere million dollars, I can help you with that. Okay, all I’ll really do is enter your comment into my monthly drawing for an AnaBanana gift basket ($25 value). Winner will be announced in the first blog post of the new month.

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Perilously yours,

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Meet My Muse…Symbolically
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6 thoughts on “Meet My Muse…Symbolically

  • January 21, 2014 at 11:01 am

    An entertaining (and slightly creepy) peek inside your skull, Pauline. I cannot say I’ve ever built a house without a plan. In fact I can’t say I’ve ever built a house. Not a whole one anyway. Bits of houses, yes, but not a while house. Even for the bits I used a plan. Didn’t always end up following it but I started with one. I have, however, built a LOT of furniture. Most of this starts with a sketch. Maybe a few dimensions, but most of it gets made up as I go. And somehow I’ve (almost) always been able to get everything to work out perfectly by working it out in my head as I go. Sometimes there’s a little math on a scrap of paper, but that’s because I’m not especially bright at doing math in my head.

    My writing (mostly non-fiction articles) is similar. I have an idea of what it will look like, points I want to make, but no definite plan. Like you, I just work it out as I go, and sometimes the shape changes drastically. One time in writing the article I actually argued myself into believing just the opposite of my premise when I went into it!

    May you and your muse cohabitate peacefully within your skull for a long, long time.

    • January 21, 2014 at 3:08 pm

      Very interesting that you have built furniture the semi, wing-it way, too. LOL about arguing yourself to another POV, too. And yeah, I find the look inside my head a bit creepy, too. LOL

      I think the key point is to thine own Muse be true? Many thanks for stopping by and sharing!

  • January 21, 2014 at 8:10 am

    I’m a pantser, too. I love your idea of how your ideas come to you. I get ideas like that, too. They roll around and pile up. The ones that keep talking to me and grow in my head are the ones that I have to write. I have too many of those going on at once. 🙂 One day, I’ll be able to write all day for myself (rather than for work–so different) and get all these stories down.
    Diana Beebe recently posted…Captivity at the Gas PumpMy Profile

    • January 21, 2014 at 3:11 pm

      I promise you that time will come. I thought I’d be so much more productive when the nest emptied, but either I’m older and slower or, well, I think I’m just older and slower. LOL But the ideas still pelt in. I guess the Muse isn’t older and slower yet. Grin

  • January 20, 2014 at 2:36 am

    Mine does the same. Big glops of videos over important scenes, every great once in a while. I ponder their meaning, and get another glop, then more.

    Thanks for the visual! I had not figured it out yet.

    • January 21, 2014 at 3:09 pm

      LOL! Glops describes it exactly! Sometimes painful glops! When I wrote Steamrolled, admittedly my most bat crap crazy project, I truly thought I’d lost it. Completely. The glops were hitting me and I tried to duck and run. LOL

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