Oh, wait. There it is, hiding in the corner, whimpering. Whew! False alarm.
My muse often hides from me. I think it may have been an elf on a shelf in a past life. Or maybe muses are designed that way. They show up unannounced one afternoon and get comfortable, somehow, in our worn out writing chairs. After we’ve feverishly tapped out page after page of decent material, the muse smiles. The next afternoon, we’re pumped. Yesterday was such a great day, right? Man, I felt so inspired. So we sit down to write and… nothing.
The thing about muses is, they’re not outside sources like we want to believe. The muse stems from us, from our own inner creativity, and that’s why it’s so frustrating when we sit down to write and the words refuse to flow. We want to blame the muse, or lack thereof, but it’s just us.
We all have off days. No harm, no foul. The most important thing is to keep pecking away, even if it’s jibberish. Keep going, keep those wheels greased, because it’s much easier to continue when there’s already a forward momentum. It’s much more difficult to start all over. Although, there have been plenty of those moments, too, and there’ll be plenty more.
Practice makes perfect… or, at least, as close to perfect as any writer can get.
Live. Love. Write.