I agree with Cristian Mihai’s post about writing and the Muse, but only to a very limited extent – with a caveat or two thrown in to make the debate more fun and add a little kick to the proverbial punch that is writing. You know what I mean, the perfect summer punch of a story – the mix of dreams, sweat, letters forming words, words forming thoughts, thoughts forming actions and so one.
Where was I? Oh yes, on another tangent. Caveats, that’s it.
The Muse IS NOT a figment of my imagination she exists. For she IS my imagination, my need to be, to breathe and to live, to laugh and certainly to write. Tears are shed in her name and letters formed with her guidance. (And if you hadn’t cottoned on, my muse is a she.)
Yes, I have personified my procrastination for procrastination can lead to perfection. Procrastination is thought and the thoughtless – daydreaming – wasting time doing something when your thoughts are wandering unaided by the strictures and regimes that life places upon us. Procrastination works in measured quantities – though one must be wary not to confuse it with laziness, a trap we all fall into from time to time.
Think of Joyce’s Muse. He was a procrastinator, dreamer, exile – 7 years to write Ulysses is case and point. His Muse wandered off regularly and yet, he managed to write something lasting:
“I’ve been working hard on [Ulysses] all day,” said Joyce.
Does that mean that you have written a great deal?” I said.
Two sentences,” said Joyce.
I looked sideways but Joyce was not smiling. I thought of [French novelist Gustave] Flaubert. “You’ve been seeking the mot juste?” I said.
No,” said Joyce. “I have the words already. What I am seeking is the perfect order of words in the sentence.”
So, feed your muse, amuse her (or him), while away time in her company and when she is sated she will whistle any tune you want.