Your muse knows best
And why we must follow our creative instinct
Here’s one of the hardest lessons to learn about being an artist in any way or form—or at least, it was for me:
Stop doing what other people are doing. Stop thinking you have to do what other people are doing.
If you’ve stuck around long enough with this blog, you’ll have heard me talk about this before. For two years, I hacked away at a romance novel because research dictates romance novels are what sell. Romance authors, for all the flack they get, are the ones who are cashing in on their writing efforts. If you write a romance novel, you are already ahead of the game where seeing financial rewards is concerned.
Instead, I put several other stories on the back burner. Stories I’ve carried with me for years, that I’ve wanted to write, that consistently have kept showing up in my mind, asking, “Wriiiiiiite me.”
Yet here I was denying them. Here I was saying, “No one is going to welcome you in. No one is going to understand you. No one is going to want you.” (Oh boy, incoming childhood flashbacks.) And basically, “I need to give a more acceptable story a chance.”
The joke was on me because as much as I tried to write that romance novel, I couldn’t put it together in a way that made sense. My imagination would not give. My writing talent went on strike. And for two years, I tried so hard. All because I wanted to reap some financial benefit from it. Because I’d told myself that if I’m going to invest my precious time writing, then I better see results. El. Oh. El.
I try not to be angry with that version of myself now. After all, I did finally, last summer, come to terms with the fact that I was wasting time trying to write a story that would not give. I got to a point where I just wanted to enjoy writing again. F*ck financial rewards. If I was going to waste time writing something, then I might as well enjoy what I was writing.
I missed being in that state of flow that I find so easily when I’m writing something I enjoy, something that comes from the heart. For months I begged my muse to show up for me, and she was indeed waiting for me, too. But it was like I kept asking her to break dance for me when what she had to offer was a waltz. “Break dancing is hip and in!” I would say. “Yes, but waltzing is what I have for you at the moment. Waltzing is where your vibe is at.”
I don’t know about you guys, but when I was a kid, I remember teachers constantly warning us about not being ourselves. About letting our light shine through. And I took this to heart. And yet, so many of us grow up chasing acceptance in more ways than one. Myself included. We mask. We put up with jobs that we hate for a miserable paycheck. We stay in toxic relationships on the off chance that that partner will come home in a good mood today and we’ll have a laugh like we did, what was it, ten months ago? We dress how society dictates we should. Slowly we strip ourselves of who we are because to fit in, to be accepted, to make money because these are the rewards we learn we have to reach for.
I put that novel away and I don’t know if I’ll ever touch it again. It’s a good idea indeed. But maybe it’s not an idea that I need to work on. Maybe it’s for someone else. Maybe it’s only supposed to be a teaching moment for me. Maybe it’s only supposed to exist as a spark that will someday light something else.
At the moment, the story that I wonder every day whether it’ll reach anyone at all is the one that sings me awake like the birds outside my bedroom window every morning. It’s the one that delights me. It’s the one for which my muse sits pretty on her chaise lounge feeding herself grapes while I feed off her aura of beauty, mystery, and angst.
I don’t know if my story will reach anywhere. I don’t know if many people will enjoy it. I can already hear the naysayers running their mouths. But holy crap does it light me up. Holy crap do I want to keep showing up and chipping away at it. My own personal David awaits under a mass of marble.
Maybe I won’t be rich. But I’ll have made something that for a few hours a day/a week reminded me that there’s something beautiful that’s also completely intangible but freely ours and at our disposal whenever we’re ready to reach for it: Imagination. Creativity. This becomes even more magical when you tap into yourself and create for no other reason than to please yourself.
Do it. I dare you. Take your best ideas. Those that feel like your favorite melody, that strips life of everything ugly and harsh and brings back beauty and the scent of spring. Create. Just for you. No one else.
Book rec of the week
I’d had Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic in my wish list for the longest time. Finally, last December I received it as a Christmas present, and it was the first book I picked up to read in the new year, and all I have to say about this is that I regret not having picked this up the moment it was published. I wish I’d had it in my life since its conception. Perhaps I would’ve understood everything I talk about in this blog much sooner. (To be fair, I had to go through what I had to go through to finally understand. Still, Big Magic is such an incredible source of validation for artists.)
If I had endless time, I’d love to go into detail and bullet point all the amazing ideas brought up in this book because it is just a fountain of insight into what it means to be creative. Why we should just take the jump and follow that carrot our muse dangles on a string from us. Why we should create for ourselves. Ugh, it just madly makes me wish I could sit down with Elizabeth Gilbert and have a chat that I know would just go on for hours.
If you’re a creative and you haven’t picked this book up yet, you need to. You. Need. To. Just do it. Don’t argue with me. Do it.
Hi there, I’m Maria! I’m a freelance fiction editor assisting women writers in amplifying their voices through their writing. You can find me on Instagram @theintuitivedesk. Or visit my site
www. theintuitivedesk.com to find out more.
I love Big Magic! I've read it a couple of times and pick it apart when needed. Excellent rec.