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Following the myth I’ve read about and what I’ve seen on TV, I used to sit up late at night at the kitchen table with a piece of paper in front of me, a candle throwing flickering light across the white pages, a huge shadow on the wall of one hand holding a pen, the other cupping my chin. I’d stay in that position, gazing out into the darkness through the small kitchen window, waiting for the muse to arrive.
Do not wait for the muse to knock on your window when you sit at the table with a notebook in front of you.
Those moments are rare, if they happen at all.
You need to invite the muse by writing every day, wherever you are, on the train, in a meeting, at the restaurant.
The writing can be a snippet of a conversation you have overheard or a sentence, or word, that came to mind while watching the trees flit by.
Which is, of course, beautiful, but also hard. We cannot simply sit down and learn the rules and apply them. We have to try out suggestions, apply, modify, improvise. Until we find something that works for us. This time. But not necessarily the next time round.
This is an attempt to share what I’ve learnt from others by trying, failing, modifying, improvising.
