the muse

I haven't worked on my novel in awhile.  It feels as if I haven't worked on anything creative in a long time.  My brain is devoid of ideas and imagination.

When I was a kid, I loved to make up stories and act them out.  In fact, before I wanted to be a lawyer or a writer, I wanted to be an actress.  A dancer.  A performer of stories.  And I just made up a whole lot of things.  I had an imagination that was on constant overdrive.

But lately, in fact, for quite awhile now, I've had this block where my imagination once roamed freely.  I have even lost the desire to tell a story.

And yet, I want to feel the need to tell a story again.

So, I decided to go back and read the original excerpts of my novel.  The diary-like entries that were written while I was in the midst of the heartbreak I was writing about.  Those pieces were the real thing.  The raw emotions that inspired the story.  My muse.  I thought that if I wanted to finish my novel, I needed to remember those feelings.  Feel.  Them.  Again.

But, as I read page after page, I felt ... nothing.  I wasn't overcome with nostalgia.  I wasn't overcome with sadness over this significant heartbreak.  I wasn't overcome with feelings of regret and loss.  I didn't feel anything.  But, honestly, a little bored.  I didn't even feel bad for the old me that went through that significant heartbreak that made it difficult to breathe at times.  Nothing.

Time does heal our wounds.  Even very deep ones.  And it is possible to get over someone.  It is possible to have loved and lost, and moved on.  

And so, maybe this is the best time to go back to that story.  Because now, I can work on it from a purely creative perspective, rather than the perspective of the heartbroken in need of therapeutic venting.  I can practice using my imagination once again.  Refuel my creative energy.

My mind is still devoid of ideas and imagination though.  So, how do I work through that?

Listen to some U2.  This song does it for me all the time.  Never fails.  

Bono is my muse.