Thursday, August 2, 2018

Inspiration Begets Inspiration

Inspiration is sometimes as tricky to find as the muse. When I have been stuck in my writing and no amount of coaxing, cajoling, mind games, or flat-out trickery can induce my muse to come back and grace me with her gifts, my creative stamina can flag pretty quickly.

Then I go actively looking for inspiration. That's not always easy. Sometimes I read. But if I'm in the wrong head, reading can become depressing because mental noise in the form of questions like "Well, this writer finished her book. What's wrong with you?" or ""That was really clever. Wish I'd thought of that," or best of all, "Look at how talented this writer is. You've got no chance." That' last observation is like the final kick to the head when I'm already flat on the ground. But believe me, that kick always comes. And I'll bet you lots of other writers have the same experience.

So one place I can turn for inspiration, and it's frequently safer, is music. According to my dictionary, "muse" and "music" have the same Greek root word, so I guess this shouldn't be a surprise. Music kick starts certain things inside of me. Scientifically, I've learned that music alters brain waves and for some of us, that helps us get in touch with our creative sides. I know that every character I've ever written has a theme song: Jake, Corts, Michael, Cassie - all of them have a song that brings them to me in a hurry, and that makes writing easier. Most of the time.

When I'm really and truly STUCK, even those theme songs don't help me. And then I wander farther afield looking for that spark I need. Vivaldi to Gregorian chant, favorite soundtracks to '60's classic rock, Beatles to Vapors with E.S. Posthumous along the way. All over the musical map, looking for help. (At the moment, I'm listening to a CD of of Irish music: specifically, "Music of Turlough O'Carolan on the Hammered Dulcimer, Vol. II," by Joemy Wilson. Amazing stuff. And at the moment, just was the doctor ordered while I tried to nail down a blog topic for this week.

This is a topic that, believe it or not, I think about quite a bit. Especially when I'm sitting at a concert and listening to a beloved piece of music being played live. So much talent on display, from the original composer, to the musicians who are playing what that composer wrote. And that holds as true for every rock band I've ever enjoyed  as for every orchestral presentation of my favorite Baroque concerto. I get to sit in the dark and let the wonder of that music wash over me. And when I'm really lucky, it triggers something in me related to my own writing. I always think, "I don't hold a candle to this...." but my muse brushes past that and continues to plant ideas in my head anyway. 

And that's sometimes the birth of my next inspiration.

All of us have our muses, musical or not, and when I experience the inspired works of others, I can't help but wonder what was in their heads when they conceived of what would ultimately become that painting, or that novel, or that evocative piece of music. Sometimes just contemplating what might have been going through their souls at the time of composition is enough to wound, even bring tears. Of wonder and amazement and gratitude because that artist or composer or writer was willing to share. And I wonder, what is it like to carry that magical feat around in your head? In your heart? I listen to the work of Bach or Horner or McCartney or Corelli, and I think, how does one survive with all that beauty held inside? And I guess the answer is, one doesn't. Otherwise no one would ever create anything. 

But sometimes it hurts.

Creating art of any kind is frequently compared to giving birth, and that's apt, in terms of going through pain to produce something original and extraordinary. Creating can hurt. And it can also hurt to be in the presence of true creation, true beauty. But being a party to it, whether as the maker or the witness, is also a wonder and a privilege. And thank God for it.

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