9-1-1 Help, Someone Killed My Muse!

When I first noticed my muse had gone missing, I figured she’d been working hard, she needed a vacation, give her a break. When she hadn’t returned a week later, I wondered if she was delayed somewhere due to bad weather or a flight cancellation, which often happened to me. Two weeks later, I sat in front of my computer staring at a blank page, in total panic mode. I needed to start a new book. Where was she? Granted, she’d been complaining about needing a better work environment—more vacation days, weekends off, shorter writing days, etc., but she’d have given me a chance to provide her with some benefits before quitting. She wouldn’t desert me after 10 years and 11 books. No way.

So what had happened to her? Had she been abducted? Who would have done such a thing? A writer friend playing a sick joke? My cats, because I’d been working too hard and ignoring them? Frantic, I did everything I could to find her. I started reading like a maniac. Reading inspires me to write and helps fill my well. But no matter how much I read, no muse. So, I conducted research for a new book idea I was throwing around. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t Google out. Except my muse.

Unable to start a new book without her, I rewrote books, I entered contests, I queried agents, and I found a teen group to critique my young adult book. Yet, I still wasn’t motivated to start writing a new book. I finally had to face the fact that someone may have killed my muse. She might never return. Disheartened, I needed a diversion from my writing, so I started tracing my Irish ancestry.

Two years went by, then one day my muse returned, speaking Irish slang, bubbling with enthusiasm over a new idea for a women’s fiction book set in Ireland. She’d been off in Ireland visiting her rellies and friends. Her ideas were flowing faster than Guinness in an Irish pub. I filled an entire journal with ideas and wrote the first three chapters of a new book. I was still upset she’d ditched me without a word, yet I couldn’t blame her entirely, and I was so happy she was back, I never mentioned it again.

Moral of the story: you can’t force your muse. She’s a very fragile and moody thing. I had written 11 books in 10 years without publishing and I was burnt-out. I promise to take better care of her and myself. Now that we’ve sold, she promises to stick around and not leave me high and dry again.