On this lovely dreary day, sing it with me, "Rain rain go away", I am taking a break from writing to bemoan my utter stupidity in trying to create a muse.
I disappointed myself recently and that is what is most upsetting. What happens when you use a semi-famous/famous person as a muse then uncover something about them that conflicts with the persona you have created? First off, shame on me for thinking they will behave how I want and be who I want. Second, who the hell do I think I am by judging a complete stranger for some of their choices, but I have and I did. Let's just say, sometimes the more you know is not a good thing.
Stephen King points out in his brilliant book, "On Writing:A Memoir of the Craft" that there is a muse, but you have to work your ass off to get to it as it usually lives in a basement and needs a place to live and won't magically disperse greatness to you. "It's right that you should do all the work and burn all the midnight oil, because the guy with the cigar and the little wings has got a bag of magic. There's stuff in there that can change your life."
He is right on and I was not. Losing my well known muses, I took out two this week, is most likely for the best. Better to create a place to court the muse then to try and make a muse out of a stranger.