I am thrilled by this kind of exploration of what writing, creativity, and unfettered expression actually is and where it comes from. It reminds of what happens when physicists just keep going with questions about what the universe is made out of and the eventual conclusion after we've exhausted all our prodigious knowledge is that "we don't really know" how the hell this whole thing called creation works, or what it's made of. Both physicists and mystics speak of the same mysteries and so many of us who write seem to share the same passion for being swept up by a random wave of truth and carried away on a eureka moment. I love your thoughts on the intrusion of self upon the writing or creative process, but sometimes I feel as though we suffer when we have a halfway "self" — a kind of pseudo-self we indulge in modern times. My experience is that the muse is enticed by the absence of self-consciousness, or the absolute fullness of it, felt as Presence. The entrapment of identity you describe can be escaped in either direction, by fully forgetting or fully Remembering ourselves. But for sure we have to leave our idea of being the source of anything behind. We are mystery, this is all a mystery, and why should writing or the muse be viewed as anything other than a humbling gift of grace from the great unknown? Be a vessel, indeed! Love this so much. Thank you.
Grace, you handled this topic masterfully! I was listening to a podcast discussing Steven King’s book On Writing. His writing reflected a similar sentiment - write as if it is your job whether the divine inspiration is present or not.
I used to only sit down to write when the muse was present. I realized that most of the time she isn’t, so now I sit down to write anyways.
Thank you for this piece and thank you for sharing my writing ♥️
The first piece of yours I ever read was "Wrestling the Muse". As I've told you many times, I loved that piece, and it got me hooked on your writing.
I enjoyed your treatment of the muse even more this time around. It was so thought-provoking. You're right - it feels genuinely ethereal, transcendental, when the muse strikes. It really does feel in those moments like we're simply a vessel through which the muse works.
I had never thought about the burden we place on ourselves with the subtle but extremely powerful shift in language from "I have genius" to "I am genius". When creative work starts to get wrapped up with identity, it feels, as you capture beautifully, "like we’re being held hostage in the shackles of our own minds."
I do battle with my ego every time I sit down to write. This piece is one I'll come back to in order to cultivate a perspective against which the ego doesn't stand a chance.
Awesome work as always Grace. Thank you for applying your writing and thinking abilities to such an important and interesting subject.
PS: thank you so much for sharing my piece. means the world
Hey Grace. I enjoyed reading this even more the second time. I loved how you combined historical perspectives on creativity and combined it with your own experience as a writer.
This is such a good way to think about the creative process: "Maybe genius will visit me today. Maybe it won’t. Either way, I’ll sit down and write. I’ll do what’s asked of me. And eventually, the muse will show her face. Eventually, I’ll find that divine flow."
I've heard about your newsletter from so many people that I finally had to come and check it out. And man, you've got some great stuff here! I think Rick worded it much better than I ever could.
I loved this particular line - "Creative unlock is no longer viewed as a gift from above, but a place that must be tapped into from within. "
Just subscribed. Excited to see what you write in the future!
What an insightful piece, Grace. I really resonated with the distinction in language. This shift to us as source must have come from the subtle differences in syntax. You really brought it home for me when you said this. In Spanish, you’d say tengo hambre, I have hunger, but in English, I am hungry. This is a monumental difference when we consider the source of genius--possession to being. Because if you have it, it is easier to accept that sometimes you might not, and you work anyway. But when you aren’t it, existential crisis can indeed ensue.
I've thought about the idea of genius–the muse, that external divine force you write about–for a couple of years now. Oddly enough, that TED talk you shared from Liz Gilbert has been very influential on how I think about creativity.
Rick Rubin also talks about it a lot in his book and how part of our craft as artists is to develop our creative antennae so that we are in a better position to receive creative divinity (at least that's how I've internalized his message).
By the way, this ending: The next time you sit down to write, don’t take yourself so seriously. Try forgetting yourself. And just do your job – run like hell. Eventually, you’ll write like heaven.
"When I’m writing in a flow state, time becomes a lake. My breath slows. The world around me falls away. And I am blissfully unaware of myself...What a beautifully liberating thought: to be a vessel for what we’re creating, not the source." This is so beautifully said, and I resonate with this fully with my writing (not yet with my paintings). Great work, my fellow vessel =)
I am thrilled by this kind of exploration of what writing, creativity, and unfettered expression actually is and where it comes from. It reminds of what happens when physicists just keep going with questions about what the universe is made out of and the eventual conclusion after we've exhausted all our prodigious knowledge is that "we don't really know" how the hell this whole thing called creation works, or what it's made of. Both physicists and mystics speak of the same mysteries and so many of us who write seem to share the same passion for being swept up by a random wave of truth and carried away on a eureka moment. I love your thoughts on the intrusion of self upon the writing or creative process, but sometimes I feel as though we suffer when we have a halfway "self" — a kind of pseudo-self we indulge in modern times. My experience is that the muse is enticed by the absence of self-consciousness, or the absolute fullness of it, felt as Presence. The entrapment of identity you describe can be escaped in either direction, by fully forgetting or fully Remembering ourselves. But for sure we have to leave our idea of being the source of anything behind. We are mystery, this is all a mystery, and why should writing or the muse be viewed as anything other than a humbling gift of grace from the great unknown? Be a vessel, indeed! Love this so much. Thank you.
Grace, you handled this topic masterfully! I was listening to a podcast discussing Steven King’s book On Writing. His writing reflected a similar sentiment - write as if it is your job whether the divine inspiration is present or not.
I used to only sit down to write when the muse was present. I realized that most of the time she isn’t, so now I sit down to write anyways.
Thank you for this piece and thank you for sharing my writing ♥️
The first piece of yours I ever read was "Wrestling the Muse". As I've told you many times, I loved that piece, and it got me hooked on your writing.
I enjoyed your treatment of the muse even more this time around. It was so thought-provoking. You're right - it feels genuinely ethereal, transcendental, when the muse strikes. It really does feel in those moments like we're simply a vessel through which the muse works.
I had never thought about the burden we place on ourselves with the subtle but extremely powerful shift in language from "I have genius" to "I am genius". When creative work starts to get wrapped up with identity, it feels, as you capture beautifully, "like we’re being held hostage in the shackles of our own minds."
I do battle with my ego every time I sit down to write. This piece is one I'll come back to in order to cultivate a perspective against which the ego doesn't stand a chance.
Awesome work as always Grace. Thank you for applying your writing and thinking abilities to such an important and interesting subject.
PS: thank you so much for sharing my piece. means the world
Hey Grace. I enjoyed reading this even more the second time. I loved how you combined historical perspectives on creativity and combined it with your own experience as a writer.
This is such a good way to think about the creative process: "Maybe genius will visit me today. Maybe it won’t. Either way, I’ll sit down and write. I’ll do what’s asked of me. And eventually, the muse will show her face. Eventually, I’ll find that divine flow."
Thank you for this piece :)
I've heard about your newsletter from so many people that I finally had to come and check it out. And man, you've got some great stuff here! I think Rick worded it much better than I ever could.
I loved this particular line - "Creative unlock is no longer viewed as a gift from above, but a place that must be tapped into from within. "
Just subscribed. Excited to see what you write in the future!
What an insightful piece, Grace. I really resonated with the distinction in language. This shift to us as source must have come from the subtle differences in syntax. You really brought it home for me when you said this. In Spanish, you’d say tengo hambre, I have hunger, but in English, I am hungry. This is a monumental difference when we consider the source of genius--possession to being. Because if you have it, it is easier to accept that sometimes you might not, and you work anyway. But when you aren’t it, existential crisis can indeed ensue.
I really loved this. Thank you for sharing!
I've thought about the idea of genius–the muse, that external divine force you write about–for a couple of years now. Oddly enough, that TED talk you shared from Liz Gilbert has been very influential on how I think about creativity.
Rick Rubin also talks about it a lot in his book and how part of our craft as artists is to develop our creative antennae so that we are in a better position to receive creative divinity (at least that's how I've internalized his message).
By the way, this ending: The next time you sit down to write, don’t take yourself so seriously. Try forgetting yourself. And just do your job – run like hell. Eventually, you’ll write like heaven.
*chef's kiss* (again)
Love where you took this piece, Grace!
"When I’m writing in a flow state, time becomes a lake. My breath slows. The world around me falls away. And I am blissfully unaware of myself...What a beautifully liberating thought: to be a vessel for what we’re creating, not the source." This is so beautifully said, and I resonate with this fully with my writing (not yet with my paintings). Great work, my fellow vessel =)