How Do I Find My Muse?

How do I find my muse?  I know that for some writers finding their muse is a wonderful and creative process that involves listening to their favorite music, whether it’s Nirvana, Garth Brooks or even something by Bach or Beethoven.

Some of my friends who are writers, have described their writing process to me and talk about their muse as if she’s a close friend and confidant, that dances into their head when exactly the right conditions exist, to help them pour forth creativity and wisdom onto the written page.

To be honest, it’s just not like that for me and I can’t recall it ever being exactly like that although I have a sense that it may have been similar to that when I was younger and used to write for hours and hours about characters that to me were very real.

But how I find my muse, at least for much of my adult life, is a much more elusive and unpredictable process.  Now you all know that I have extended family in the house full-time, including one of my grandsons who is three and my mother, who is in her mid-sixties.  Top that off with my two youngest daughters who are 2 and 6 and my oldest daughter, who is about to turn 22 this year and you have a recipe for almost constant noise and disruption.

So it’s within the middle of this chaotic environment that I’m usually trying to write.  For me this means that finding my muse is more about whether or not I have the strength to not only drag her kicking and screaming into my head but the added energy to hang on to her tightly while I try to get any ideas out onto the paper.  Or in my case into the computer, which is probably a good thing, because when I can hold onto her, at least I can type really fast before the crying and bickering starts and she runs screaming back into her peaceful world.

So for those of you who have a muse that is your close friend and confidant I envy you.  And for those of you who, like me barely have time to use the bathroom without company, let alone write uninterrupted for hours while your muse dances around you, I sympathize.  Know that you are not alone and that someday when the house is quiet again, you may actually come to know your muse in a way that doesn’t involve choke holds.