I don't understand why my muse frequently decides to attack me around midnight. Is it because I should reflect on the old day and contemplate the new dawn … and what better time than their rendezvous at the top of the clock in the dark?
And the frustrating thing is that I have to be awake for the meeting of the muse … I can't be watching the news … I can't be singin' the blues … I gladly stay away from the booze … I've spent too many years paying my writing dues … Oh, heavens, what purple pen will I choose!
My favorite T-shirt is one I found in a museum gift shop out East … "The artist formerly known as starving." I vowed this year that I was raising my fees from a nickle to at least 6 cents an hour, a 20 percent increase! Will the market be able to bear it?
Most of us creative folks often have trouble asking for a decent wage. We'll paint, sculpt, perform or write because we HAVE to or we'll crumble into a mess far worse than the housekeeper at the Sistine Chapel ever encountered when cleaning up after Leonardo DaVinci. "That darn Leonardo, he splattered everywhere again!" Even if we never climb the stairs to the big stage, we're still wowing real and imaginary audiences in the corners of our offices and studios out of this intense passion to leave our scribble, our melody, our splash on this world.
I no longer believe in writer's block, artist's block, singer's block. There are always cracks in those blocks that will allow our muse to flitter through and tease and tempt us. Some creative souls bond with their muses over breakfast or even earlier in the pre-dawn darkness. Some choose more sensible liaisons in the bold or subdued light of day.
I had to get the midnight muse, who was probably goofing around all day. Hmm, sounds just like me … Leave me alone! I've got to get back to work!
That's Feels Write at Midnight 101
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