A Muse in my life is a time when all is right in the world! Birds are singing, love is full and any problems have a satisfactory outcome! Patience evens seems to flourish.
It’s my idea of heaven where the flowing waters of inspiration burst through from the connection with a Muse. My brain is saturated with storylines! My dreams flood with scenes and ideas. My days are gleefull and exciting as the words form paragraphs and characters take on life as they play out my thoughts on the computer screen.
Time is lost as hours fly by and my fingers click away on the keys, not paying attention to spelling, punctuation or grammar. The drive is blissful and strong to get what I see in my mind’s eye out of my head, soul, and heart and then feel the flooding inside me as curiosity rises to see where the characters take me. I’ve learned not to hold them back. I’ve learned that if I don’t give them room to breathe I can lose them momentarily. Which is why I tend to write surrounded by silence or I can go to a crowded coffee shop and get lost in the noise of the surroundings. Funny how that last one works.
I’ve been blessed by beautiful Muses in the past.
Davod, who was the inspiration for my first book. I cherish his presence in my life and how easily it was to flow from story to story as he touched the emotions in my heart with his secrets and dark desires. There was a tether strung between us that I still feel to this day. He brought me to a new level in my writing. I will always adore him.
Dark Waters, who also made it into my first book. His need for raw, primal discovery fueled our exchanges and relationship. Our conversations were natural and easy with a kind of connection familiar with past lovers re-telling their deviant interludes.
The Young King, who still flows in and out of my life but more now as a friend than a Muse. There was a tender beauty within him yearning to be discovered and a strength needing to be recognized. He now stands stronger than before and will always be cherished.
Without a Muse, there doesn’t seem to be enough energy in the day, skies aren’t bright enough and my skin seems thinner. It’s because I’m not writing. It becomes a labor. And when I’m not being creative I get…cranky!
During those dry periods where the Muse is non-existent, I look to my favorite authors for inspiration. (Guy New York is 90% successful at this ) Maybe something they write, a sentence or passing phrase will ignite something deep in my soul and finally, my creativity has received a jump start and the beautiful flow of words bubble and spill from my depths.
Or I’ll breeze through videos of teachers and scholars, (YouTube is my friend) teaching on subjects that hopefully will awaken a hidden interest. And lastly, I’ll perv through my Tumblr dashboard hoping to find a picture that speaks to me of raw primal desire.
To me, I’m a wanderer in search of living water without a Muse. There’s an energy they bring to my life that I can’t conjure up on my own. They are made from what seems my own DNA. They’re soul family, travelers in time that have agreed to cross my path in this life once again. I recognize their essence and they know the beat of my heart.
Until my next Muse reveals himself, I have memories and of course, Guy New York whose filthy mind and stories feed me temporarily. ( I love that man! )
The Young King
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