Listening to Frank to feed the muse

Sometimes. I swear that no matter how hard you try, how much you do, there are some people who just never feel like it is everything; like you are not doing enough. Do one-thousand good things in a row, and when something isn't perfectly to their expectations - BAM - fireworks of thunder, lightning, tears and anything else that might bring the walls crumbling down like Jericho.

What the hell does some one named Frank have to do with this? Simple. Sometimes you just gotta do things your way. If someone else doesn't like it, fuck 'em, because they don't see your face in the mirror at night, only you do. When I look in my mirror, there is only one ugly mug looking back.

Truth is, that there are some people who just cannot see the good through the bad. No matter how much good they see, they spin straight to the bad. At work, hey, I get it, I get that way; after all, I managed body shops. Before a car went back to the customer, I had to look at it as if the whole job was wrong. I am sure it infuriated a technician when I sent something back, but that is business.

Anyway, what the hell does this have to do with anything? It made me wonder how we can take all those little moments of anguish and despair that seem so big in the moment and use that to feed our muse. After all, a muse is kind of like that big "Venus Fly trap" from the movie Little Shop of Horrors constantly beckoning with the same refrain 'feed me Seymour, feed me' much to our dismay. I actually think some writers block comes from trying too hard to feed the muse and not feeding your soul instead.

We all have a bit of the tortured soul or we would not subject ourselves to this constant slave to the grind mentality that is the life of writing. Sure, there are some out there writing without that tortured soul. Think of them like the kid that is really good at sports, but doesn't really enjoy it; he just plays because to him (or her, gotta be politically correct and all that shit, considering where I live), sports become a means to an end. College education. Maybe a long enough professional career to set himself up comfortably. But when the game passes him by, he doesn't miss it, it is just another 'thing' in his past.

Yes, there are writers like that out there. They found a way to make money, sometimes a lot of money, doing something they do not particularly enjoy, but that they are good at... and then they laugh at those of us tortured by a whispering voice inside of our head 'words, I need words. give me more, give me more' taunting us with our own desire. Yes, the muse is like a monkey on our back. Sometimes we shut it up with chemical aid. Why are artists so frequently also addicts? Because the muse needs to be fed or silenced. And when you feed it, it becomes an insatiable fiend wanting ever more to stay fed. And we cannot feed it, so we try to silence it; with chemicals.

Why have I begun writing more and more, you ask yourself? Because my fucking muse haunts me every minute of every freaking day demanding more. She is worse than a publisher, editor and agent all rolled into one fucked up little package.

I could just stop. If I stop writing, she will stop demanding. If only it were that simple.

But, see, we are at an advantage, we know what the muse is doing to us, knowledge is power, after all, right? Wrong. The muse still controls us, knowing she controls us only makes us fear her more.

That would be all well and good, but then we fall prey to the Grammar Gods. We are constantly asking anyone who will answer "is it okay to talk in first person? Is it okay to name a character with a foreign surname? Can I skip the fucking commas. Do my sentences have to be short?" All these damn questions make us feel haunted by that ever hungry muse.

And while I don't know that she can ever be satisfied, it is not our muse that really creates our confusion, it is our-anti-muse. Like every protagonist must have a strong antagonist for a story to work, so too does every muse have to have its own antagonist. That antagonist is disguised as a friend, folks. It is grammar. We are so busy worrying about what we are allowed to do, that we stop doing. Now, how stupid is that?

Simply put, if your muse is demanding and you find yourself stuck, just do what Frank said.

Do it YOUR way.