Calling on the Muse

Even when you think nothing is happening, the creative process is always working.

Thelonious Monk Quartet

Thelonious Monk Quartet

I’m going to state the obvious: The creative process is not the same for everyone. Each of us come to the page, the canvas, the instrument, the marble, the clay, with something we feel we need to express. For some, it may be merely esthetic, for others, it will have a message, either social, political or deeply personal. In the end, though, what drives us to create anything is this insatiable desire, this need to express ourselves. It is part of what makes us human beings, after all. Something drove those Cro-Magnon people living in the caves of southern France to wander all the way to the back of their cave to merely blow some red ochre over their hand, an image left for us to see tens of thousands of years later. This urge to create has been with us since the dawn of humanity.

I began as a musician, having played in rock bands well into my thirties. Writing was something I came to much later in life, although I had always written, but it always took a back seat to the music. It wasn’t until I was thirty years old that I seriously began to pursue the art of writing. It began with poetry, then eventually moved towards fiction, essays, articles and all sorts of things. But there is one poem from my book “Existential Labyrinths” (Black Spring Press, 2003) that I feel captures the essence of the creative process—or at least my own creative process.

When I was writing poetry exclusively, I had a routine. I would often write at night, sitting alone in my one room hovel in New York City and the goal would be to write at least five poems a night, no matter how awful some of them may be. The idea was to just “get it out”, whatever thoughts, feelings or ideas I may have had. Some nights went along swimmingly, others, not so much. I found myself literally staring at the computer screen, and absolutely nothing would happen. During one of these bouts of not feeling the muse, I just began to type, and this poem seemed to magically appear:

A Sort of Mirage

Shadows in ink.

On such evenings I’m

too tired to applaud the maestro

but a fresh maté soothes nevertheless.

War has not been declared

and there is not one fraction

of my life left behind.

There are a lot of commas

and etceteras lying about the hallway

waiting to be used, waiting to be set free

to dance across the page.

They seem to comfort each other

after these outbursts;

a sort of mirage

these words I cannot grasp.

~~*~~

A little obscure, sure, but after reading it over a couple of times, it dawned on me that I had written something about trying to come up with something to write about. Sometimes one never knows when inspiration will strike and when the muse (or the “maestro” in this particular case) will offer her hand to you and tell you to just get on with it.

I’ve since moved away from poetry into the realm of fiction, most likely because I needed a larger canvas so to speak in order to get across what I wanted to say. Just following wherever the muse leads me. She may be beautiful but she’s not always cooperative and I suspect that these bouts of writer’s block that occur at times is her way of saying that she will only lead me there, not do the work for me. There’s got to be some effort, some actual work involved. To create any form of art is often very hard work. It rarely comes easy. But if you are committed and you are serious you can achieve some amazing things and the proof of this is all the amazingly talented people that are out there doing some amazing things (whether independently or traditionally); and life is much richer because of it.

~~*~~

Biography

Julian Gallo

Julian Gallo

Julian Gallo is a musician/writer/painter who has poems and short stories published in about 40 magazines and journals throughout the United States, Canada and Europe and also has 10 books under his belt: “Standing On Lorimer Street Awaiting Crucifixion” (Alpha Beat Press, 1996), “The Terror of Your Cunt is The Beauty of Your Face” (Black Spring Press, 1999), “Street Gospel Mystical Intellectual Survival Codes” (Budget Press, 2000), “Scrape That Violin More Darkly Then Hover Like Smoke In The Air” (Black Spring Press, 2001), “Existential Labyrinths” (Black Spring Press, 2003), “Window Shopping For A New Crown of Thorns” (Lulu Press, 2007), “November Rust” (Lulu Press, 2007), “My Arrival Is Marked By Illuminating Stains” (Lulu Press 2007), “A Symphony of Olives” (Propaganda Press, 2009) and “Divertimiento” (Propaganda Press, 2009). His second novel “Naderia” (Beat Corrida) was released in January 2011 and his third, “Be Still and Know That I Am” (Beat Corrida) was released in September 2011. He is also currently playing guitar and bass for NYC singer/songwriter Linda La Porte.

Connect with Julian
Web Site | Twitter: @JulianGallo66

 

Title

November Rust

November Rust

Naderia

Naderia

Be Still and Know That I Am

Be Still and Know That I Am

 

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Imagine You’re On A Ship

Imagine you’re on a ship."Imagine You're on a Ship"

Without warning, unknown sailors—or pirates, or your family, or your friends, it doesn’t really matter—tie you up. You can’t move your hands and feet. They toss you overboard. You sink. Air abandons you. Your sun sets unnaturally quick and it gets darker as you sink.

Think.

Try to move your hands and feet again. Your wrists and ankles hurt from the rubbing rope. But if you struggle enough, maybe you can loosen the ties that bind you and survive. To give up means death.

So you struggle. And struggle. And struggle some more. Your chest tightens. Your ears hurt.
You feel the water pressing your eyeballs inward.

And then it happens. Your ropes loosen and you free yourself. You rush to the surface, explode into the world, and gulp precious air.

Then another boat finds you. You’re safe. With your two feet firmly planted on the deck, they throw a celebration in your honor.

“You deserved better,” says one. “You’ll be famous,” says the Captain. “I don’t know how you did it,” exclaims a third.

Then, in a flash of inspiration, you wobble atop the waves on your table in the middle of the dining room, crystal chandelier swaying above your head, and you recite the poem you were forced to learn in grade school—“The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—“I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

The next day it happens all over again. You’re tied up, thrown in, you struggle, then you celebrate. Knowing this, would you choose to continue this cycle? Listen to what the Greek poet Homer and the Victorian poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson thought before you answer.

Here’s the thing. Accepting the reality of what you just imagined is the key to your life. You are your own happiness because your art–and life–is the sum of what you accept and the difference you create while on your voyage.

To struggle is your destiny; to take from your life is your privilege; and to give back your uniqueness is your responsibility.

Like any committed artist, you’ll struggle to represent your reality, your big ideas, to others in ways that enhance their perspective and yours. Still, your voyage is to create a lens that brings beauty into focus, allows for meaningful change, and heals real and perceived pain.

Don’t believe me? Don’t think it matters? Try this:

  1. Think about this phrase: “nude descending a staircase”. Jot down your reactions and images that come to mind. Pay attention to what your inner critic tells you.
  2. Now, look at this painting and jot down your reactions:

    Marcel Duchamp. ''Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2'' 1912

    (Marcel Duchamp. ''Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2'' 1912. Oil on canvas. 57 7/8" x 35 1/8". Philadelphia Museum of Art. From: http://ow.ly/77nks {{art}} Category:Images of art)

  3. Then, read this poem:
    Nude Descending a Staircase

    by X. J. Kennedy

    Toe upon toe, a snowing flesh,
    A gold of lemon, root and rind,
    She sifts in sunlight down the stairs
    With nothing on. Nor on her mind.
    We spy beneath the banister
    A constant thresh of thigh on thigh–
    Her lips imprint the swinging air
    That parts to let her parts go by.

    One-woman waterfall, she wears
    Her slow descent like a long cape
    And pausing, on the final stair
    Collects her motions into shape.

  4. Now, think about the phrase “Nude descending a staircase” again.

Did anything change? That’s why it matters. Your big ideas, your creativity, your art matter more than you know. Sharing them is what I call “doing great things.”

Now go do great things . . . and let me know how to help.

 

Biography

Sean Giorgianni is the curator of ReadHeavily.com, a blog that asks readers to improve their lives through the art of reading. He’s also known to lead Twitter discussions on writing and literature.

Connect with Sean
ReadHeavily | Facebook | Twitter: @ReadHeavily

 

How Gender Roles Crush Creativity

[MCCALL'S MAGAZINE, KIDS IN LINEN CLOSET]

Photo: Flickruser (George Eastman House), Creative Commons 2.0

The recent firestorm surrounding the J Crew ad (also included below) that showed a mom painting her son’s toenails hot pink appalled me. Set aside the repulsive homophobia—Ms. Lyons, one naysayer complained, is “exploiting [her son] Beckett behind the facade of liberal, transgendered identity politics”—really? Never mind feminist politics—would these same critics be appalled by a photo of a five-year-old girl collecting rocks or digging up worms? I doubt it.

As an artist, I’m aghast.

Creativity demands that we stretch boundaries, break rules. William James said, “genius . . . means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way.”

As writers and artists, we rack our brain trying to figure out how to “perceive in an unhabitual way,” break out of habit, loosen inhibitions, free our minds of all the nasty, judgmental detritus. We play tricks on ourselves—read, meditate, listen to music. Some drink or use drugs. With all these activities, healthy or not, we attempt to escape the restrictions forced upon us by our upbringing, our education, by a world that distrusts the original, disparages rule-breakers.

Creativity demands that we stretch boundaries, break rules.

Rules are necessary, of course. Civilizations require adequate means of controlling their citizens. Without rules to prohibit rape, thievery, murder, we’d live in mayhem, in constant fear for our lives. Yet rules can also be arbitrary, the product of superstition, outmoded beliefs. For thousands of years, people associated left-handedness with the Devil. My kindergarten teacher had this rule, demonstrated rather than spoken: you wrote, cut, and colored with your right hand. By implication, without ever aggressively trying, she transformed me, a natural leftie, into a right-hander—no big deal, except that it set me up for a lifetime of directional confusion. Not all rules are righteous or good.

For artists and writers, rules create structure. They provide a way to frame our ideas, give us a place to begin. Following rules helps to eliminate confusion, ambiguity. For patrons or readers, rules serve as a guide; they provide accessibility, offer a way in, a means of understanding the work. Strict adherence to form, though in certain ways restrictive, can produce works of great beauty. Creativity, originality, though—this demands a break from the rules.

Why can’t an American boy have painted toenails? What’s the big deal? Egyptian men applied henna to their fingernails as a cosmetic. In 19th century Afghanistan, hennaed fingernails were a sign of victory and prestige. Or is the real problem, the detail that drove the detractors so crazy, that Ms. Lyons painted her son’s toenails hot pink?

Circumscribed gender roles—among the most stereotypical and arbitrary of rules—put kids in a box. Reining kids in—forcing adherence to arbitrary roles for the sake of social acceptance—bridles their imagination, teaches them to conform. If we hope to foster creativity in our children, we need to give them room to breathe, space to imagine.

We need to let them dig up their worms. Or paint their nails pink.

~~*~~

Terri Long

Biography

Terri Giuliano Long is the bestselling author of the award-winning novel In Leah’s Wake. Books offer her a zest for life’s highs and comfort in its lows. She’s all-too-happy to share this love with others as a novelist and a writing teacher at Boston College. She was grateful and thrilled beyond words when In Leah’s Wake hit the

Barnes & Noble and Amazon bestseller lists in August. She owes a lot of wonderful people – big time! – for any success she’ s enjoyed!

Connect with Terri
She blogs about writing and the writing life at www.tglong.com/blog
Facebook | Twitter: @tglong

 

In Leah's Wake

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