Listening to the Muse
I am in the creative-planning stages of a new project which came (as the best ones usually do) like a bolt of lightning or a slap to the head, a stream of dialogue that captured the voice of the main character and nailed the relationship between the two key characters in their situation as it stands. I was *SO HAPPY*! It was a long-awaited gift. It was followed by another bit of dialogue, and another, and then a whole scene. I stayed up madly scribbling on any random bit of paper I could find and then transcribing it onto a new document, word for word, laughing at the screen. It's been flowing onto the page with surprising hilarity and I dreaded going to sleep for fear of losing it all, but they were still there in the morning, waiting for me. We're becoming fast friends.
Today I am being extra-quiet. I am listening for their voices, for the world as it grows. For me, this takes silence. No music. No television. No distracting holiday brouhaha. I drive in the car in silence. I sit at home in stillness. I am walking outdoors and letting the wind fill my ears, my digital tape recorder at the ready. I am listening for the bits as they come together like drops of oil, seeking one another out to become bigger and bigger, eventually growing into a whole, a single story that gathers all the voices and snippets and scenes into the story I'm waiting to tell. It's in there if I take the time to hear it.
So for now, I'm listening to the Muse whisper secrets to me in her soft, quiet voice.
