Sorry, Muse: I'm taking credit for this one

Lately I've been hearing a lot about muse on Twitter. Perhaps it's the effects of NaNoWriMo (which I don't participate in), or the fall weather, or the fact everyone--writers especially--wants to believe in a little magic.

But writing isn't magic.

I consider myself a good writer. Not great, not wonderful. But not bad, and perhaps a bit above okay. I have some sense of style, and some sense of pacing. I get 'A's on papers from difficult professors once I have them looked over by an editor (#writetip number 1: fall in love with an editor, move in with that editor, use said editor to review your work for free). I do all this and I've never had a muse.

But I know what I want, and I've got my desire to write, to be a goddamn published author. I've just had that drive, that desire to put blood, sweat, and tears into everything I do (so long as I really like it... if I don't, that's another story). Sometimes this works, of course, and sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes I even get discouraged and don't write for days or weeks or months at a time, but like a girl silly in love I always come back. Always.

When I don't write, I work with my hands a lot. Knitting. Sewing. Bookbinding. Everything that requires time and effort to see results. There are no muses in work like this. I might get lost in making stitches, but it's always me and the project, nothing more. Writing is like that for me. One word after another. Not always fun, but always worth it, because I'm there, I'm making something new, achieving something tangible, albeit not as tangible as a hat or skirt. I can't reach out and touch it, but it's there to be read.

So if you don't have muse, don't be discouraged. And if you do, don't be so quick to give away the credit. Writing comes from you, one stitch, one word at a time, and that's something you should be proud of, whether it came easily in a dream or had to be ripped from your chest.