When Your Muse Goes Missing

Sunset Fishing in the BDub

Sometimes you sit down to write and the words just don’t come. Oh sure, you can force it and maybe eke out a page or two, but is it quality work? Probably not, because if your muse is hiding, it’s simply not going to work.

That is kind of where I’ve been at lately. You know the drill—you have so many things going on, and it’s already crazy because it’s summer, that you just can’t get anything completely done to your liking. So you decide to take a break, maybe a vacation, and you encourage your muse to join you. You figure you’ll get away together and things will be like the good old days, when you were always inspired and words leapt onto the page as your fingers flew across the keyboard.

But your muse wouldn’t go. Nope. She never showed her face once. Ouch.

That was the case with my last trip. I’d been so overwhelmed with work, writing jobs, and day-to-day stuff, I thought everything would reset on our annual camping trip. But no, the notebook and pen never saw the light of day. Sigh.

I pouted to myself, slightly miffed at my complete lack of creativity in such a beautiful setting. How could it be that nothing, nothing came to me? I began to doubt myself, questioning my ability to continue to produce and wondering if I would pull myself out of my funk. Alas, it was not to be. I felt sorry for myself and moped like a petulant child.

And then a week later I got up one morning for work, stiff and a bit groggy from an extra glass of wine the night before. I strapped on my running shoes and hit the trail. With no races to train for, pace was of no importance. It was just me and the sunrise.

After about ten minutes I passed rabbits, cows, and horses along the soft rocky trail. My mind cleared as I examined the cluttered mess of trees uprooted from the nearby tornado earlier in the week. I watched a lone horse standing on a hill in the meadow; tall and majestic in his silhouette. Some of the horses watched as I ran past, but they paid little attention before returning to their breakfast.

Less than fifteen minutes in I heard a rattle in the bushes. I knew it was my muse, finally returning to take her place in my newly cleared head. I wondered where she’d been, but focused more on where she was going. For the remainder of my run we had a little conversation, after which I accepted her apology for her absence.

She can be a fickle b…

Now that we’re friends again, I anticipate some further cooperation. After all, I think we’re really in this together. I hope. In any case, I’m just happy she’s back.

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