My brain seems to be in need of some muscle memory. Picasso said, "Inspiration only comes when you're working." For me, working without inspiration involves some sort of figurative vice grip, resembling an ancient torture device, which I then use to keep myself in the chair. This produces a feeling akin to sitting in church as a child, waiting, waiting for it to be over so I could stand up and wiggle. There is a lot of involuntary twitching and swinging of the legs.
I resist this vice grip and turn to vices, M&M's, for example, until it becomes clear that nothing is going to be accomplished, inspired or not, until I strap myself in front of the computer. Finally, I take Ole Picasso's advice. I figure he is something of an authority on inspiration. Sometimes it takes a few days, but it always produces results. Whether it's because the kinetic energy from my typing fingers stimulates the lazy corners of my brain, or because I simply expect success, it works every time. I mean, at this point I have tried everything else (M&M's, watching creative people on Project Runway). Actually Project Runway is an inspiring show--if only it could solve the problems in chapter eleven.
So, here's to doing the hard work, and remembering the hard lessons. Sheesh, I love chapter eleven now. Onward to the disorganized mess that is chapter fifteen, and may the muse not slip out the door again. Ah, well, I know what to do if she does. I've put my M&M's back in the fridge, for now.
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