It has been a longtime standing agreement with my Muse that if she is to whisper words into my ear, I am to play music for her.
It sounds like a simple agreement between friends, but she makes it very difficult for me at times. Her eclectic tastes run the gamut from classical music to heavy metal. Sometimes she’s in the mood for a bit of rock ‘n’ roll and other times she loves her ballads. Rarer are the times when she is vying for hip-hop but she will occasionally enjoy “whatever the kids are listening to.”
My Muse’s moods can never be ascertained and she’s often nowhere to be found. She comes and goes as she pleases, sometimes disappearing for long stints. She returns, always pretending as if she was only gone for an afternoon or a few hours. Waltzing back into my life, dancing and singing, giving me the words to create. From one moment to the next she can be happy and joyous, or angry and foul.
As I can never sense where she is mentally, I can not guess which music will best fit her mood. I choose music that fits the tone of what I wish to write. Whatever work in progress I’m currently working on, the very scene, I match the music to.
If it’s a sad scene in a story, or a heartfelt essay I choose music that is poignant and tugs at the heart-strings. If it’s a scene that has fighting or murder, I choose violent and loud music that crashes into my world with a fierce beat and angry sounds.
I turn the music on, allow my fingers to hover over the keyboard, and hold my breath. Hoping and wishing that this is the music that will inspire the Muse to dance around me in a flutter of wings and cloth, teasing my senses with the creativity that inspires me to craft my words.
If the moment is right, if the scene is something she is interested in, we dance together and lose ourselves in another world.
If the music is not what she is aching to hear, if what I want to write is not what she’s interested in at the moment, I can only hope that she will whisper her wants and needs softly into my ear. I change my frame of thought, and the speed at which I write to give her the room she needs to dance.
And if it’s a bad night, she is loud and screams at me, and she waltzes out of my life, leaving me to dance alone.
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Starr and I share a common love. Music. We met because of our love for music and it is a bond that has kept us circling each other for a few years. I am thrilled to have her amazing talent gracing the pages of my blog. Please check out her crowdfunding page, and read more about her here:
Starr Bryson works from her home in Pittsburgh as a freelance writer. Her professional work includes editing, Social Media
Starr’s creative writing ranges from humor laced snarkfests, gritty and painfully raw non-fiction all the way to the dark world of Erotica. The author behind The Insomniac’s Dream, she claims blogging was only the beginning of an amazing freelancing career.
In her spare time, Starr writes fiction and is working on a paranormal novel and companion serial. In addition, she writes short stories and manages a local writing group. When she’s not writing, Starr is kept busy by her two hilarious and fantastically disgusting boys.
Starr enjoys adult grape juice, reading in her non-existent spare time, the occasional Netflix binge, and connecting with other writers and her readers. She loves Halloween, Zombies, and all things horror. She aspires to be a Vampire someday.
Her claim to fame is her caustic wit, copious swears, and an ongoing battle with insomnia. You can catch up with Starr on her blog, Facebook, and Twitter. You can see what Starr has published by visiting her Amazon Author Page.