Today’s topic is “I Got Nuthin’”. The chronic disease of most literary creators, “I Got Nuthin’”, is revealed by symptoms like: eye strain from staring at a blank page or computer screen, empty delivery pizza boxes piled like the Tower of Babel, and an aversion to street clothes.
I blame the Greeks. Sure, the economists are blaming them for everything so I thought—wait. I meant to say ‘Greek Gods’. Yeah, the Muses. Nine daughters of Zeus & Mnemosyne (his 5th wife) created from nine consecutive nights of whoopee. Makes you think the muse Cialis had a hand in things, eh?
Anyhoo, these nine daughters didn’t have a huge population to cover in the old days but they certainly specialized—Epic poetry, Lyric poetry, Love poetry, Sacred poetry, Comedy, Tragedy, Choral Song & Dance, History, and of course Astronomy. Why not throw Math & Science in there, daddy? Or was everybody talking in verse back in the day?
Frankly, once you used a Muse they owned you. You couldn’t cross genres—sorry John Tesh. That was a deal-breaker. You wrote a love poem to your intended when you’ve got an agreement with Euterpe at Capitol Lyrics? Your fiancée paid the piper by getting morphed into a tree or a woodchuck.
Granted, the other end of that spectrum was monopolies. Aeschylus kept cranking out the prizes for Tragedy, and so Melpomene kept collecting the royalties. Then, one day a tragedy struck…and they’d heard it before. The Greeks didn’t believe in reruns or syndication. Your fifteen minutes are up, pal.
Just out of general curiosity, I wonder which author-artist got shafted in this family tree? I mean, nine sisters? Triple-Brady Bunch issues. Who is the eldest, the wisest, the ‘Marcia’? I would gladly take up that career genre rather than suffer some Grecian Cindy’s hand-me-downs.
I’ve said for a while that there are no new ideas in Hollywood. Technically, I started saying it after the 1999 Albert Brooks movie, “The Muse.” However, I don’t hear about Yanni’s Sirius radio program, his Nobel Prize, etc. If the Muses stayed in Greece, then maybe just Melpomene is getting her jollies.
So I think there has to be some sacrifice made to bring them to the fore again. The Muses shall reappear as a team if we suffer…what? A year without “creating” reality TV, perhaps? A year without a single worldwide blog posting? There’s certainly no daughter of Zeus shining in that realm.
I call myself a ‘writer’ with a small W. It’s a part-time avocation. My passion fuels me but that is a finite and fickle source. It’s like being on an internal treasure hunt; the equivalent of going into my attic and discovering I STILL own 24 lava lamps.
I want some help. I want the external spark, the accident, the inspiration. I want to see a bicycle built for two and then invent synchronized swimming…Too late?
My latest story projects have been prompted due to an occasion, a promise or contract I needed to fulfill. Somebody else’s work now re-visioned or re-revealed to a modern audience. Now I’m working on a play where I had a short list of desired scenes…and the list (not the play) is done.
So I’m being pro-active in my Muse hunt. I’m placing ads in high-visibility areas and hoping my SOS will be answered.
CRAIGSLIST: Need a woman in toga (or modern dress) to do anything I ask…for a literary project. Must be flexible, tolerant, creative and modern thinker willing to go halfsies on Zingers & Diet Coke marathons.
WALL STREET JOURNAL: Need literary consultant with Pulitzer, Obie, and/or Nobel credits on the CV. MFA or equivalent required. Commission-only position; First year signing bonus; movie rights to first project negotiable.
MAXIM: Raw unadulterated mind orgy participants wanted. Throw out inhibitions and any notions of normal intercourse, uh, discourse. Send glossy pictures from latest book jacket or magazine layout.
I’ll let you know how this saga turns out. I have to go now. Pizza guy’s here…
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