Writerly Wednesday: Ah, the attention-whore muse.

Ah, the attention-whore muse.

You know the one. The one that comes crashing off the proverbial creative freeway at about 200kmh, slams their way into your brain cavity unannounced, then proceeds to set up camp there like some dirty hippie houstguest whilst pointedly ignoring your protests.

That one.

(And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I hope that one day you learn. Because, inexplicably, you will love the experience a lot more than you ought.)

My main muse is a classic example of the sort.

See, I have a Project. A Project with a capital P, even, because I’ve been I’ve been on the damn thing for literally half of my life now. It’s gone through multiple revisions and is still in the process of happily ripping itself apart — while also being a horrendous tease. I only get the story in bits and pieces, most of which are puzzle pieces that I then have to figure out and put in their correct spots, despite not having a proper overview of what the whole thing is supposed to look like in the first place.

I blame said muse for this. He’s that sort, too.

In the first drafts, you see, he wasn’t even there. Not so much as hinted at in subtext, not lurking in some sweeping backstory that I had yet to flesh out.

Then came 2007. That was when I first began to think, Hey, maybe I should dig up that thing I started back when I was twelve, and see if I can actually get it to go anywhere.

I started to rewrite. For the first page, I needed some random, nameless extra for all of two or three paragraphs, who would then never really be heard from again.

Or so I thought.

I am happy to admit that I was hilariously wrong.

Said “nameless extra” decided that, no, actually, he knew far more than Silly Author, and was thereby Taking Over.

And by Taking Over, I mean that he made himself not only the main character, but also the catalyst for all of the story’s events that would then unfold.

I didn’t argue, which was just as well. I’d’ve lost.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s a wonderfully uncooperative fellow. Either he won’t shut up (or else only speaks at the most inconvenient of times), or he won’t talk to me at all.

He’d been quiet for the past several months or so, but last night, I figured out the trick to getting a recalcitrant muse to chat:

Work on something else.

I sat down with my notebook, intending to work on my piece for LiveJournal’s fantasybigbang.

And as soon as I was making a proper show of ignoring him, just like a cat, there he was.

(I knew better than to complain.)

I did get some lovely little tidbits from him; and while I’m still not sure that the story as a whole is yet ready to be written, I fully intend to make use of this trick and keep getting him to talk.

These muses are cats. Quietly omnipotent (which, I assure you, you are never allowed to forget), and singularly uninterested in all of your coaxing and adoration.

But the minute you ignore them, they are going to go sit atop your head.

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