So far, my life's creative output has fallen short of my expectations. For too long, I suspect I allowed myself to be seduced by some romantic idea of artistic inspiration, waiting for a muse (or something) to visit me. As I waited for inspiration, valuable time was lost. Sound at all familiar to anyone?
In an article I read many years ago, the late John Updike said he completed at least one page every day, meaning at the end of each year he had over 300 pages written - a book. So does that kind of discipline trump the notion of a muse? Some would argue (I don't agree) that Updike's writing is cold or cerebral. Did the same discipline that helped him produce such a staggering output also make his output clinical?
Since starting to blog over five years ago, I've often thought of Updike's approach, attempting to write every day. It's been humbling; my current batting average is about .667 and most of my posts are smaller than a page. But even without Updike's talent & and only 2/3 of his discipline, I am feeling better about my creative output. More significantly, I'm no longer as seduced by the muse.
About Me
- Pat Barton
- My most recent single release - "My True North" - is now available on Bandcamp. Open my profile and click on "audio clip".
Excellent subject-hits close to home. My Muse balks at being a mere functionary—like a genie in a bottle that I can summon and boss around. It’s actually the opposite-I wait in the bottle until the Muse comes and liberates my ideas from my head and into writing. And mine-while I wait-likes to see that I’ve been writing even if it’s trash.
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