It happened again today. The celestial being we writers like to refer to as “The Muse” visited my brain while in an early morning meeting. It seems the earlier I wake up, the more clear my brain. This makes ideas, words and stories suddenly flow through the spigot that had been blocked for weeks. Yet, it always seems to happen when there are people around me, in a conference room, talking about negotiations and output deals. In between looking at emails on my iPad and thinking of plans for the day, comes a whole new idea for a book! And not only a book, but a writing project that actually has an audience I can define.
Feverishly, descreetly, I jot down titles for chapters that I feel will become the chapters of my book. It occurs to me that my entire life has been spent creating this possible novel. The disappointments, the varied jobs, each have contributed toward something that adorable little hobbit The Muse thoughtfully decided to whisper in my mind grapes (see: Tracy Jordan, 30 Rock). Now, after playing coy and not showing up to the table each time I open a blank Word document. Now, after, committing to writing each day, ready for the flow, only to be stood up like a cheap date. Now, the ideas flow. Now, while I need to pay attention to my day job. Okay. I’ll take it now. Bring it, muse. Bring it while my mind is open and relaxed, trance-like and have some down time before I need to do the job I’m being paid for. I have other responsibilities, you know.
Writing and planning a career in self publishing has been like tending to a winter garden. This past year has been spent toiling the earth, fortifying the soil with words, stories, ideas, structure, plans – each element of the creative process tended to on a day by day process, until content is actually formed – usable, publishable content. Yet, the growth of the writing career I’m cultivating is slow. The dirt is looking healthy and moist for growth, but the seeds are still hatching down below. Today, while listening to the clicks and static of mobile phones on a Polycom, it seems that garden might see some buds come spring!
Funny how that works.