When a creative project is going well

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We have all experienced this. A project is “firing on all cylinders.” The “neighborhood cat” (our inspiration – our “muse,” if you’ll pardon the pun) has not only come to you, but is now spending every waking minute with you. You need scarcely bait him anymore, as he comes of his own accord and nearly never leaves. He wakes you up during the night demanding attention (you hear an idea in your mind and simply must write it down). Many creatives find this part of the process annoying, just as we might find such a creature annoying (though adorable). How does one manage this aspect of the process?

By embracing it. It is unpredictable. Sometimes, inspiration does happen while we are writing. This is wonderful. For me, however, it seems to appear mostly when I am not working. I will write during the day, often “beating myself against the wall” and making little progress, only for the idea I seek to fall into my lap right before I fall asleep that evening. Like a cat, inspiration cannot be truly controlled. It can only be embraced.

I am grateful to have married someone who understands this (my wife is an artist). She does not need to ask, “Why are you waking up again? That’s the third time tonight!” She knows exactly why and simply smiles to herself when it happens. This is also, perhaps, why creatives are considered strange (I must, of course, address such a scandalous rumor: it is completely, utterly, and absolutely…true). Our muse may come to us at the most inopportune times. I will be having a conversation with someone, and will suddenly need to leave the room for a moment. Why? To write down a melody that has begun to play in my mind. Sometimes, I will even start conducting. I simply cannot help it. My wife and I will be taking a walk, and she will be speaking to me. After a few moments, she tells me, “You’re far away.” She is right; I have just paid an unintended visit to my inner world. After all, a cat that visits you demands attention, and is woefully ignorant of the word “no.”

What happens if one refuses his muse? Simple: if one does this enough times, the muse will stop visiting. The cat will conclude that it does not receive any treats, and will look elsewhere. The only way to guarantee that he spends time with you is to consistently have a treat ready. (This is one of the main reasons to have a creative routine: one cannot wait for the cat to arrive. He must continue to display the treats and remain present when the cat arrives.)

Conversely, what happens if one continues to indulge his muse, even after a period of inactivity? The muse never leaves. He continues to demand more treats, more time, and more attention. This can result in lost sleep, forgetfulness, and all manner of other odd “symptoms.” In fact, if one is not careful, this can have a most negative effect on relationships and personal safety (I do not advocate allowing the process to endanger these things, of course – one must be reasonable).

Do these aspects of the process make it worth it? In my mind, absolutely. There is simply no “rush” comparable to that of hearing one’s musical compositions performed well, to an enthusiastic audience response. There are few greater joys than learning of a reader’s delight in a story I have written. Yet ultimately, I do not feel that I can take credit for this. It is not the product of my own labor, but that of my muse. The muse brought the ideas to me; I merely transcribed them and cleaned them up.

And his muse, in the end, is what a composer must trust.

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