Chasing the Muse by Sharon Curcio

Many writers complain about feeling “writer’s block” from time to time.  But essentially, I don’t believe in writer’s block.  I would ask each author to reflect on a story idea that compelled him or her to write, that bubbled up from the subconscious, downloaded itself into memory and flowed out on the keyboard. Surely, many of us recall those moments as we sat down and wrote until that wellspring stilled.

I remember getting up in the morning, and as I made coffee, I heard a lyric in my head—a very strange lyric for a poem that contained the word “mice.” I don’t particularly like mice or rodents all that well, but I listened to it, and it opened a poem. My mother was in hospice at the time, and as I wrote, I understood very clearly that this was about her impending death.

Second stanza

…Perhaps we shall dress as mice

And when our neurons stop firing

We linger just a bit

Then dissolves into a blurred image

Perhaps we shall dress as mice

Low and quiet

As the electricity ceases to pulse

As your breathe shallows

As your eyes deepen into unrecognizable caverns

Once flesh, I’m now a black and white photo in your wallet…

I finished the poem and later put it out to a few anthologies.  One was Quantara, and they were looking for submissions to put into a book of verse in support of Ukraine.  They did ask for poems that covered grief and loss and picked up my “mice poem.”  All writers know that when the Muse lights upon them, they listen and write.

While I am no expert in dealing with the subconscious, or how to make the subconscious conscious, I do know that there a few techniques that help.  Never sit in front of a blank screen waiting for the Muse.  That’s not how she works.     Have a conversation in your head or on paper with her.  Tell her generally what you are thinking about, i.e., a conflict you can’t resolve, a few characters that have lost their way in your story, or a dramatic turn that eludes you. Don’t be too specific; she should have a wide roadmap.  Thank her for her help. Then go and do something else!   Weed your garden, walk, swim (or nap), vacuum the floor, and clean out your car.  Leave her alone.  Just sleep on it, if nothing else.  Let her scour your subconscious archives and see what she comes up with.  She’ll let you know.

Many authors are very close to their characters, even ones they don’t like.  Many times, visualization is productive.  Imagine your characters all in one room. See how they interact.   Do they talk to each other?  What do they say?  What’s the feel, tone or vibe of each one?  Who likes (or doesn’t like) whom?  Why? Does a character(s) manipulate some object, or refer to something in your manuscript or not yet in your manuscript?  There’s an element of free-for-all play here, and play is the best antidote to writer’s block.  You want to be able to get back to your manuscript without feeling forced to tackle it again. Many authors even have a special way to say goodbye to their characters once their work is finished.  Our characters are our special creations and give motion to our works.  They deserve our respect as much as the Muse herself.

I once wrote two different monologues for two different characters, and each character had a chorus.  As I re-read these monologues, I noticed that the two characters were talking to each other.  Thus, two monologues became one dialogue, and this work forms the core of my libretto for the oratorio “Contemplating Fire.”  Composer Hart still finds this story of the origin of the lyric drama “Contemplating Fire” amusing.  But I had nothing to do with it. I just discovered that something worked in a way that differed from my original conception of it.

So, to conclude, have fun with your writer’s block. Ask your questions and release them to the universe.  Fully let go of your current struggle, clear your mind, and assuredly, you will re-connect to your flow with perhaps deeper insights into your work than you ever thought possible. To paraphrase Jung, problems cannot be solved at the level on which they occur; one must go to a higher level to unknot the knot. Happy writing!

Written by Sharon Curcio