I don’t keep a wordcount. Between blogging, writing my novel, and the amount of typing I do with homeschooling my son takes up tons of time. Taking even a moment to jot down my daily word count can get tedious.
Nevertheless, the other day I decided to do some writing in the terribly neglected novel, and managed to peck my way to almost 2,000 words. Words flowed, and I rode the tide of creativity for as long as I am able.
The next day….nothing. My muse abandoned me once again. I think she does that just to laugh at me. Maybe she gets bored with me. Maybe she just feels neglected. Its not as though I do much to ‘feed’ my creative streaks.
I’ve considered setting up a tiny altar in my office to offer libation (of the rum I sip in the evening hours) as an offering for her help. Maybe a daily prayer or ritual is in order to appease the creativity gods.
Muses, as any writer knows, are fickle. They grace you with their inspiration only to drop you like a hot potato at their whim. In some cases, I feel they have their phases like the moon, being full and bright and full of metaphor, weaving of words, and command of language, then turning to the dark of redundancy and mediocre expression.
It certainly feels this is the case, and personally I feel its the worst form of writer’s block. I can work through lack of ideas, time constraints, and even feeling tired or sick. What really bothers me is the moment when I can feel the eloquence and fluency begin to wan, like a sun dipping towards the horizon.
I suppose it can’t hurt to setup a candle to invoke my muse.