On Muses, Partly
This post will be one in a two or three parter, provided I feel like following through with it, on the capital letter issues of writing. Truth and big W writers. Maybe a little Beauty thrown in for good measure.
Being in an MFA program, surrounded by writers, some of us are bound to get a little lofty, a bit high-fallutin’, a tad too big for our britches. A few days ago one of my profs was trying to inspire us, I think, by telling us that writers are like priests. We’re ascetics, like no other profession in the world. Who else locks themselves up in a room for hours on end to make money–and that only if we’re lucky? We close ourselves off in order to create, spend hours and hours observing, making notes, waiting for inspiration. When you get on a train of thought like this, you inevitably get a little misty-eyed, a little mystic, and you think of muses. It’s a subject we dance around, for the most part. No one wants to out and out say they’re receiving messages from some divine source, right? Idn’t that a little hokey?
While that’s rhetorical, the answer is yes. And despite that, people do say they’re tuned into otherworldly channels. And it’s a channel with a lot of viewers. I submit to you two stories of disparate success: The first is Alicia Ostriker, whose book of poetry The Volcano Sequence was channeled to her by a volcano after a period of writer’s block. Ms. Ostriker is published, many times over, and is, I guess, considered a success. I got the chance to hear her read. She wasn’t any good, in my opinion. I’m backed up by other opinions, but apparently it’s the minority opinion. Nevertheless, this woman had a book of poems beamed into her head by a volcano. There’s one end.
On the other is a girl from way back. I told this story on my old blog, so if you’re an old reader you can skip on down. Beginning Creative Writing, we’re discussing the muses, the possibility thereof, opinions thereon. This girl pipes up, says, “yeah, you know, sometimes it’s just like someone is speaking to me, the words just flow”. You wouldn’t question this if it came from the mouth of Marilynne Robinson. But this girl’s contribution to world literature is a story about making out with her boyfriend “like a wild hyena”, while Disney’s The Lion King played in the background. Whatever you’re plugged into, I don’t want to be party to it.
The higher you get in the writer echelons, the less you hear about inspiration, about muses. People talk more theoretically about what it is that’s fueling them. My money is on the subconscious/unconscious. I can tell you exactly when I’m getting inspired, because I can feel it. You, observing me, can see it. I zone out, clam up, stare off. There’s nothing mystic about it. It’s cool as hell, sure. But it’s not mystical.
Washing your hands of the muse is a good thing for all of us. There’s no reason for the occupation of writer to be so mystified, unless by proxy there is reverence for the text. I’ll never be a guitar god, but that doesn’t mean I think Jimi Hendrix was anything more than highly skilled. Killing the muse is good for the writer, too. I doubt you’d ever come across a professional writer who waits to be inspired. (I could cite sources, if you like.) With inspiration in and on your head, you do what all the pros do: treat it like work. It’s a grind like any other. Some of us hate it, oddly enough. But they say they have to do it. Feel bad for them.
So, man. I wrote a lot and said very little. I’m sorry you’re exposed to such diarrhea of the mind but at least it’s not getting put down elsewhere. What I wanted this to do, in part, was attack the notion of the muse as an external force, knock down some stilts writer’s might be standing on, and build a foundation for a post down the line on big W writers. Notice it was Shelley, not Byron, that said that poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. Byron was too busy getting laid and saving Greece to say something as self-serving as that.
I mostly said that to piss off the Shelley fans. But I’ve got a little point hidden in there, and I’ll write about it later.
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I hate people who think they have to come off as being (crazy) one with The Gods. I mean, sure…it takes all kinds to make the world go around and all that jazz, but why insist on worshiping them as heroes? There’s a difference between respect and groveling.
I’m not sure why I’m saying all this… In any case,you’ve written a very thought-provoking blog
I never gave muses any thought, honestly. I know that I write more when I have emotional stimuli (whether or not I write better is debatable!), but I think there’s good reason for that. When you face a stimulus that’s enough to change your world, it must needs change your way of thinking, as well. Even if the change ends up being so slight you don’t notice for years – your mind has to expand, reform around the newness. When your mind is open and already working furiously… well, more can come from it.
It’s been a long time since I was seriously trying to work on any prose. Now that I am again I find it’s almost like a puzzle or a problem for me. I have a series of small questions that need to be answered on the way to the large questions, the ones that make up the thrust and plot of the book. How should this happen, how would this character do this, etc. Sometimes I feel more that I’m problem-solving than writing. It’s a little strange. But there’s no supernatural force guiding my hand.
Maybe I never liked muses because holding them up as an ideal seems to diminish my own part in the process. I have an amazing imagination. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes diseased, but it’s mine. I claim any products of it, dammit.
Also, the hyena thing? Yeeuch.
You know, I used to think I needed emotional stimulus to write, but I’ve actually found that to detract from my focus. Inspiration is a slightly different beast… A great scene or line of dialogue might pop into my head and serve as a springboard for more great writing. But yeah, for the most part, I think I’ve learned (and then had the lesson reinforced by what the pros say) that the muse is pretty much a construct, and diligent work is the only thing that’s really going to put the words on the page time and time again.
LOL to the hyena bit. And the volcano, for that matter. I even think Stephenie Meyer’s inspiration for Twilight (a dream she had) is less lame.
The only muse I need is a blank page. Fill it. Fill it well. Move on to the next one.
I think making out on the couch with The Lion King on sounds like a good premise for a story. Though since hyenas don’t actually make out, she might wanna rethink the simile.
Jen: Thanks very much. Hopefully the next round will be even moreso.
Ant: 10 points for “must needs”.
Kristan: Get your inspiration from wherever, but my contention is that if you spill the beans and say “a volcano”, you’d damn well better have written something to back it up.
Clowncar: That is damn good. I’ll have to quote you on that someday.
I love that quote Clowncar. Although the blank page scares me as well. Face your fears and move on?
And thank you for this post Eric. I am so tired of people saying “I need to be inspired.” I mean, yes there is something to be said about inspiration but there’s something more to be said about hard work.
Writing is work. It’s a job. No one ever wakes up and says, “I think I’ll do some brain surgery. I just need to be inspired to do so.”
And as for Shelley and Byron, is it possible to be a legislator of the world and still get some ass?
From the musician’s perspective, muses do need to be internalized in order for it to work. Like Clowncar’s blank page, the musician in me requires nothing but a microphone. Inspiration should be a state, not a reaction.
Wondering what part 2 will be like…?
Someone used that as an example, Noel, at some point. Maybe a few times, because I remember what I *think* is a separate anecdote, when Billy Collins visited my undergrad, and he related a little story something like this:
I had a visit from an accountant friend of mine, and we were discussing poetry, and my friend said, “You know, my six year old daughter is a poet. She writes poems.” And I said, “Oh, that’s nice. My son’s an accountant. He plays with change.”
Different points, but you brought it to mind. Odd that it’s a vaunted occupation but everyone claims they can do it at some point.
Nico: You’re about to find out!