Today, I re-opened the door to Eve’s Reflections. I noticed how empty and dusty it was; a neglected, untended house that was almost caving in. It made me so profoundly sad, because it is a reflection on my bad writing habits. I found this quote:
“Discipline allows magic. To be a writer is to be the very best of assassins. You do not sit down and write every day to force the Muse to show up. You get into the habit of writing every day so that when she shows up, you have the maximum chance of catching her, bashing her on the head, and squeezing every last drop out of that bitch.” ― Lili St. Crow
I often blame Adam, but today, I must acknowledge the role I’ve played. My muse might have stayed away because I’ve offered nothing worth showing up for.
I found another quote I rather liked. It goes like this:
“What is hell to a writer? Hell is being too busy to find the time to write or being unable to find the inspiration. Hell is suddenly finding the words but being away from your notebook or typewriter. Hell is when the verses slip away through your fingers and they never return again.” ― R.M. Engelhardt, The Resurrection Waltz Poems R.M. Engelhardt
When my muse Adam decided to leave, I didn’t expect him to stay away so long. I told him I’d find a replacement if he didn’t come back immediately. I believe I even stamped my foot to make that point. Adam has stayed away a long time, so long in fact, that I’m ready to swallow my pride. I really am. I know when Adam has the upper hand.
I’ve replayed the events before his disappearance over and over in my head. I think I know how this all came to pass. I channeled my anger. I wanted to blame him for all the things that I’d done wrong, and all those that I’d done right and ended up with the wrong outcomes. I knew how to apportion blame in those days. It was never my fault. How could it be, perfect as I was? His reaction was almost always the same: He squinted his eyes and stared at me. He seemed confused, wounded even. I hated him a little more each time. You see, all I wanted him to say was, don’t worry, it will be fine. You’ll find your words.
Now, here I am, trying to undo the wrongs. Words are the oxygen that can bring my muse to life. Adam, I’ll do better. I’m climbing out of hell, notebook and pen in one hand, and laptop in another. You’ll see, I’ll make it worth your while to show up, and to stick around.