I have an author friend with a creative muse named “Boris.” When brainstorming together we often invoke the WWBD question. She is a talented author and a good friend, so the existence of Boris is an accepted given in our interactions.
What she doesn’t know (shh, don’t tell her) is that every time she mentions Boris, all I can picture is this: | An image I don’t find conducive to creative writing. Not even a little bit. |
Do you find the muse or does the muse find you? While pondering this very question, I decided since Boris was busy musing my friend, I’d settle for Bullwinkle J. Moose. In my mind, WWBD quickly became, “What Would Bullwinkle Do?”
Recalling that I had one of those bendy-rubbery figures of Bullwinkle somewhere in my box of old memories, lost dreams, and sentimental tchotchke, I desperately sought him out. If nothing else, I’d sit him by my keyboard just in case he’d taken up a second career as a muse. When I finally found him, his wiry arms were wrapped around a deck of tarot cards that I forgot I owned.
WWBD indeed? I sat both items by my keyboard and stared into Bullwinkle’s crookedly painted on eyes for inspiration. Nothing. Not one to give up so easily I pried the tarot deck from his hands (hooves?) and gave them a good shuffle. Of course I felt ridiculous, I hadn’t touched those cards since my old existentialism phase.
Swallowing down my embarrassment along with a gulp of cheap wine (Moscato) I laid out a straight three-card spread. I got The World, The Hermit, and the Ten of Pentacles. I had no idea what the cards were supposed to mean. After another gulp of wine (wine, I have decided, is the fuel for mooses and muses), I fired up my Google machine and sought out answers.
There’s a dancing figure on my World card and it turns out it is dancing to the rhythm of life. As a former belly-dancer, I feel connected to this card already. The World card symbolizes a moment of nirvana when “self” and “other” become one linking you will all humanity, environment, and the animal kingdom.
The Hermit card seems to taunt me. Writing is a solitary endeavor; maybe I’m meant to go it alone without a muse. The good news is that The Hermit is associated with wisdom & power. The Hermit must disconnect themselves from the noise created by others to seek the answers within.
The Ten of Pentacles is a busy card; there’s an old man in a colorful robe, dogs, a child, some other people (related?), a peek at a large building in the distance, and a clutter of ten pentacle stars. Something about this card bothers me. It’s chaotic and it’s meaning isn’t as straight-forward as the first two. Apparently, it is supposed to symbolize a life-long journey where everything turns out in the end even though the path was long and bumpy.
Now what? Bullwinkle, stupid smile never slipping, offers no guidance whatsoever. I open the document with my latest work in progress and stare at the blinking cursor. But then my mind starts to wander…damn it, it’s working.
I decide to make the hero of my story hermit-like. He hides from people avoiding all their noise and drama. He walks around at night where he’s sure to be alone with his thoughts. Suddenly I have him on a long, bumpy journey to his happily-ever-after with a heroine who side-steps and sways her way through the rhythm of her life. I’m calling it ABOUT AN EARL. Here’s the buy link if you’re interested: http://bit.ly/ENTAboutanEarl
Maybe Bullwinkle really is my muse. Please don’t mention it to Boris. If you study tarot, I’d appreciate another view on my cards. If you have a creative muse, I’d love to hear about it. Please comment below, I’ll be giving away a $10 Amazon gift card to one lucky commenter.
I don’t study tarot, but I do have a creative muse. He’s my very loved, very spoiled and sometimes very ornery, but always adorable little Shih Tzu. Thank you for the chance!
Puppers and doggos are the best! I have an adorable pittie/boxer mix that tries to be a creative muse lap dog.
I don’t know about tarot cards, and I’m not a writer so I don’t have a muse, but if I were, I’m sure it’d be Jason Momoa.
*smacks head* Why didn’t I think of that!
don’t have one
I didn’t think I did either..until I did. Do you have a junk drawer? I hear they hang out there.
My creative muse is my mother. She painted landscapes that draw you you. She created masterpieces in the kitchen with leftovers. She made the ordinary fun. When I see a cardinal I think of her, my muse is a cardinal ornament.
Oh, that’s so sweet. I remember your mother liked painting and I appreciated her cooking. Thanks for commenting.
No muse here. I’ve always felt my spirit animal is Donald Duck. I wonder how he and Bullwinkle would get along.
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Thank you for commenting and I’d like to think that while Bullwinkle is a loosey-goosey moose, and Donald is a wound-up waterfowl, they would somehow get along.
That sounds like a blast, Diana! As for a muse, while I’m not a writer, I’m sometimes inspired by what I read or stuff I see in the great outdoors. That, and a good walk to clear the head is sometimes just what I need!
I wondered if I was the only one who thought of the cartoon Boris (and Natasha) every time our mutual friend’s muse was mentioned! I love your journey with Bullwinkle and the cards. Can’t wait to sit down and read About an Earl!
Ha! I thought I was the only one who made that connection.