The Muse, muses

on this whole writing thing. As the last week of my semester-in-five-weeks class comes to a close, my *muse* has fled for quieter, less demanding quarters. She’s not answering, no matter how much I bang on the mental door and try to peer into darkened windows.

It’s not a surprise, really. Normally, she works in binges–several thousand words in a sitting, followed by rewriting until the piece is as good as she think she can currently do. Then she moves onto the next several thousand words, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, repeat the cycle.It’s a cycle that’s worked well over the years, or at least the two, 3 inch, 3 ring binders full of published works alludes to it being a workable system.

The five week creativity on demand has been a rough change of pace, of the entire system for my muse. Not enough time to spend rewriting to the level she has gotten accustomed too and she’s a bit embarrassed by what she posted at workshops.Not up to her standard, she believes.

Writing in three different genres in five weeks has also been a stretch, in multiple directions, especially with the poetry writing. That was a totally green area, but she’s learned a lot and it will be helpful in other writing…providing she ever returns. Every once in a while a padded footfall is heard as she scampers from one darkened cottage room to another; subtlety is a trait she’s really yet to master.

But once class is over and she’s had time to catch her breath and regain her footing, she’ll be a stronger muse. On one hand, there’s been way too much creativity on demand–something she’s not used to. Ideas need to marinate for awhile, different flavors and textures beginning to blend and stew for a time before words, sentences and paragraphs are ready to be set out on the page and consumed by the reader.

On the other hand, she’s learned a bit about writing poetry, something she had really avoided up to now because it intimidated her. It still intimidates her, but she did it–the poetry–and has survived and knows if she works at it, she’ll get better with it. It’s a challenge she’s more willing to take on, thanks to her semester in 5 weeks.

This last week, she’ll muster up the strength to re-write what needs to be re-written (all of it, but she knew that when she posted it), but then she’ll need to take a breather for a bit. Slow down. Re-examine what she’s learned these last five weeks, and begin to incorporate the new knowledge into her way of doing things–binge write, re-write, re-write, re-write and repeat.

It’s a love/hate thing

According to Ray Bradbury, hate and love are the strongest motivations a character can have. Actually, it is the zest that drives both that motivates a character from beginning to end in a story. (My paraphrase, Zen in the Art of Writing, expanded edition, pgs. 6-7).

What I had never thought of is that anger can be as much motivated by zest as love. Zest, for me, has a good connotation, joy of living, passionate about what you do, etc.

I supposed, on second thought, being passionate about what you do can also be driven by hate, a mind-bending thought, esp. before 8am.

Maybe its because I’ve never really thought about writing a character motivated by hate. Anger, yes, hate, not so much. Why? Not sure. I suspect it has to do with not wanting to mentally dwell on or inhabit a character that is motivated by such a negative emotion. Character emotions, for me anyway, can seep over into real life and I’m not sure, at this point, how to guard against it. (It’s why I don’t like watching emotionally wrenching movies–I can’t separate what’s on the screen from my own emotions, an annoying trait which leaves me mentally and emotionally  exhausted).

But I can see his point–how hate is as strong an emotion as love and just as strong a motivator. But both love and hate are part of complex relationships; emotions that are far more tightly bound than most people realize. Both emotions that can land a character into situations in which there seems to be no escape, but one must be found, or else there is no story.