I
n the last month or two, I’ve had numerous conversations with people talking about imaginary friends. The disturbing aspect of this is that all of these imaginary friends are completely, 100% acceptable in our “world.” We don’t even blink an eye at the discussions.
Yes, I’m talking about your muse, folks. You have one, your writing friends have one, and we all discuss them without worry that someone will call the men in white coats. Our muses are real. Alive. And I don’t know about you, but mine is pretty darn temperamental.
Of course, that probably isn’t surprising considering my muse’s name is Fred.
Yes, you heard that right. Fred. I imagine some of you are thinking, well that’s not possible. The muses are female. Goddesses. The nine muses are the daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. They were the patron goddesses of the arts, for crip’s sake.
Well, my muse bears a striking resemblance (and vocal quality) to Bob Hoskins.
When I finally admitted that yes, this was my muse, he was much happier with me. In fact, he helped me smooth out my issues with my current plot, snuck in a few additional ideas for the next book and then wearing his football coach uniform, goes back to his big lazy-boy chair, grabbed a cold lemonade (truly, I think he wanted a beer but he knows there is no drinking on the job) and sat back to listen to me type. Sort of like the coach watching the video the day after the football game. I can hear his, “Wrong play there. Need this instead.” whenever I start to even think of going the wrong direction.
Why Bob Hoskins, you ask? I think because this man is such a fabulous character actor. He’s played a regular joe next to a cartoon bunny, he’s played a high butler at a New York hotel, and a million other roles that were all believable and amazing. Bob Hoskins just has that quality to make you believe.
Fred has it too. He helps me get my characters (even acts out the female ones, which is a little weird, I grant you). He can help me work out the places in my plot where I’ve gone astray. He’s like a lifeline to my characters, actually — when I decide to paddle off in some other direction, he stands on the other side of the river (dressed in swim trunks, a t-shirt that says “Don’t Worry, Just Type”, a big neon yellow life jacket over it and diving flippers on his feet) and points me in the proper direction.
Fred is unique. He’s always dressed for the part that I need him to play. He makes me laugh, he reminds me not to take myself so seriously. He reminds me to have fun with what I’m writing, and if it’s not perfect, so what? Rewrite it later. (Edits are not his favorite, though… he tends to go search of butterflies then.)
Mostly, he makes me believe, in my characters, in my writing. Which is really what your muse is all about, isn’t it?
So Fred and I are inviting your muses to come visit. Muses, tell us about yourself — What do you look like? How do you corral your author’s efforts and steer them in the right direction? (And good heavens, Fred is now dressed like the a cast member of Bonanza and waving a big goodbye at you with his cowboy hat… I need to give him a story to focus on.)
18 comments
Wow what a vivid characterization. I was a little intimidated and even thought about not commenting today. But… decided that was the cowards way out. Better to confess that I’ve never consciously given my muse a thought. I know others talk about it (he, she) like it’s a personal friend but for me I don’t have an awareness. Now you’ve given me something to think about. I’m going to watch other comments and see if I can figure out if there’s something wrong with me. (Or you) no just kidding. I envy you having someone you’re so aware of.
Have a good day.
Lavada
Nope, it’s probably me. LOL And remember, our muses are from our own imagination — so pull from your imagination and make your muse anything that inspires you.
For me, it had to be someone out of the norm. Sweet and nice wouldn’t cut it. Normal wouldn’t cut it. Slightly irreverent was definitely called for. Silliness required. Someone who was incapable of taking himself seriously. (Because I freely admit I take myself too seriously at times.)
Fred is exactly what I needed, he’s probably in a lot of ways, those parts of myself that are harder to be. So with him by my side (in his pink tutu and high top sneakers), I can be anything I want and my writing will flourish with it.
I don’t think my muse has a gender. It’s more like this little alien that crawled in my ear and is in my head. It coaches me and tells me what to say. It merges with me. It got into my soul and there is lives. I just hate when it ignores me though.
My muse says hello to Fred.
Okay, Mary, I am a reaaaaaallllly visual person so you just stuck in my head the imaginary scene of a tiny, little Marvin the Martian lookalike crawling up your shoulder, hiking up your earlob on rock climbing gear and dropping into your ear to settle down and build a home. LOL
For me, the muse HAS to be visual because it’s how I do anything, no matter how small. When I write scenes, I have to be able to see them in my head like a movie scene first. So my muse? He has to be over the top visual. LOL
Hey, ladies!
Can’t top Fred. Won’t even try. Had a vivid mental image of you at the keyboard, Fred with his spiked lemonade (b/c he won’t tell you he splooshed vodka in and you pretend you don’t know) – barking orders at you for this scene and that.
My muse is decidedly female, she gets moody, distracted, and is prone to pout. When we get going, she has no trouble pouring out the characters, the dialog, or the scene. She rolls up her sleeves and kicks me out of bed at 2am to jot down notes, or plot a quick story she threw me from the aether.
However, she’s insistent on having an outline to follow. She might weave off the beaten path, but she refuses to let her middle sag. She’s had me on a treadmill, working out a plot issue, for about two weeks. I think we’re over the hump now. We’ll See!
Great post!
Hi Jeannie. This might sound weird, but my muses are usually the hero in the book I’m working on. They’re all hunky special-ops guys, and they hover just out of my peripheral vision with their ripped arms folded across their chests, watching what I’m writing. If I make them do something less than alpha (especially during a fight or combat scene) they step in and redirect me. Not sure what they do during a love scene, because I’m too chicken too look at their reaction.
These guys don’t like whining, or sniveling or complaining that writing’s too hard, blah, blah. They just want resulsts. And they expect it to be as good as I can make it, no exceptions. Darn alpha males.
Happy writing!
Kaylea Cross
Ashley, if his lemonade is spiked with vodka, let me tell you, that makes a whooole lot of sense now. LOL
I think Diva and Fred will make great friends! LOL
Kaylea, how could anything possibly sound weird after I said my muse is a short, balding man who likes to play dress up? LOL (Yes, I know, I need therapy.)
And really, you have yummy muses. I’m all for the Alpha Male line of defense to keep you locked on target.
You guys are giving me some GREAT visuals here. LOL
Jeannie, I’ve discussed my Muse, Iffy, often. She likes to run with scissors. And wear blue butterfly wings. She also carries a big pink gun. Don’t ask. I wish she were as well behaved as your Fred. She’s not. In fact, she just reminded me that I’m due to blog here tomorrow. I’m going to throttle her! So I’m off to pull her wings and see what I can come up with. Later!
Yeah Jeannie ummm, Fred (and Iffy, Silver) should visit Sophie. Free spirited, temperamental, flashy, and man she has a mouth. When I listen to her the words flow, the laughs come, the tears fall. Damn she’s good. And when she decides she’s done for the day, she’s done. I ignored her for years, but finally a few years ago threw in the towel and gave her a name. She’s much happier now and talks to me more, especially when I’m in the car alone. Whew! Glad to know I’m not the only one. It’s such a relief.
Fred. What a fabulous muse. I don’t have a particular person that speaks to me, but whenever I listen to music, ideas begin to whisper themselves in my ear. Music is my muse.
Debra, that’s lovely. Music does get you in the immediate scene, doesn’t it?
Diva likes XM radio, commercial free, The Pulse works best.
She finally got back from her shopping trip, and I managed to get her to chatter all morning while she was going through her phenomenal purchases from the palm springs outlet mall.
Nothing gets diva to talk better than promises of a new Coach bag.
~Ashley
Silver, I think all of our muses would get along wonderfully. Hmm, well although I doubt Kaylea’s Hunky Men Muses would have much patience for Fred. That could be highly entertaining, in fact…. 🙂
Patti, they are fussy about the whole name thing aren’t they? Who would have thought? Sophie sounds like a terrific muse. And I’m starting to see a bit of a pattern in the flashy, flamboyant and outrageous ways…. 🙂
Debra, I totally understand what you mean about music. Although I’m a classical pianist kind of girl…I play classical music when I need to dig in, it keeps me focused and it’s another passion of mine. (I played when I was younger, on the concert/competition track.) So it feeds right into where I need it to.
Music is a wonderful muse!
My muse is a horse, with no name, a great friend to help me traverse the desert of writing… 🙂 ~Skhye
Skhye! you’re hilarious.
Traverse the desert on a horse with no brains. That’s me. 😉
We’ll chalk up that joke to my I’m-braindead-and-only-think-in-jingles. Whenever you see a line of lyrics, know I’m zapped!