Invoking the Girl Gods
Man, do I need a prayer, an incantation, words I can offer up to Polyhymnia, the muse in charge of songs to the gods, hell, maybe even the other muses in charge of writing as well—Calliope, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, and Thalia. Please send inspiration. In a hurry. Soon. My interest is waning, energy flagging, the desire to do this work falling way behind hormones raging. I'm ready to throw in the proverbial towel, start a journal burn bonfire and walk away. This can't be this hard. I must be making it so. I wonder, will these muses respond to this?
This writing life—with its days of showing up at the page to seek words that speak my version of what’s true—is what I said I wanted. Now that it’s mine, help me maintain the balance I too regularly ignore or forget. Guide me away from the “all or nothing” mentality I often assume and toward acceptance—that who I am and what concerns me are viable wellsprings for my art. Keep me in the attitude of beginner, so necessary to remaining open to the muse. At the same time, encourage the confidence, peppered with a touch of authority, that I've earned from these years of diligent work.
Urge me toward greater productivity, focus, and discipline while never losing sight of the open mind and heart required for truth in art. Help me sustain interest in projects; grace me with the wisdom to move on when the work no longer brings joy. Grant me bravery and tenacity in the face of the mercurial subjectivity and rejection that dominates this writing profession. And periodically remind me to lower my expectations and be kinder to myself than I think I should be. Because only in realizing there is nothing wrong with me, that my life is fine, even perfect, can I say yes to the voice that is writing and to life.
