meet enid, muse extraordinaire

Standard

Not "my" Enid!

Not “my” Enid!

A Bohemian earth mother or a wee-winged sprite whirring through clouds of opal pixy dust. That’s how other writers might describe their muse. My muse is, well, she’s not like that. I was going to say she’s indescribable, but that would make for a mighty short post, now wouldn’t it.

Meet Enid, my extraordinary muse. Rain or shine Enid wears a double breasted camel coat with a Union Jack pin on the lapel, a hat that you can roll to jam into a suitcase, dark support hose and Crocks. She’s instructed me to let you know that she’s foregoing the ankle bracelet in 2013 and that she’s swapping her orange Crocks for green. Ever the fashion plate, my Enid.

And then there’s the bulging book bag. Enid’s packing PW, the 2009 Writers Market, Levenger’s catalogs, an autographed John Grisham novel (don’t ask), Hershey’s miniatures, one of those fancy wooden box of assorted tea bags, her PBS travel mug and a paddle ball game. (She likes to play with that when she’s getting impatient with me.)

I didn’t always have a muse. For the first few years of serious writing attempts, I had to be self-musing. Enid came into my life after the writer she was bemusing moved out of state and Enid opted to stay here to be closer to her grandchildren. (I know. I had no idea muses could have grandmuses.)

Enid typically pitches me ideas right before I go to sleep or when I’m in the shower. I understand that’s standard MMO (Muse Mode of Operation). She caught on early that there was no point in giving me a lot of detail when I’m in bed. Her ideas evaporate by morning. If I’m showering, I’m too soggy to capture anything on paper. So, mostly she gives me titles or character names and lets me dig for the rest. But it’s a start and that’s usually the toughest part.

Yes, Enid is a no-nonsense gal. Lest I give you the impression she lacks a sense of humor, I have heard her laugh. It’s more like a nasally, smirkish chortle. I typically hear it when she’s waiting for me to do something with an idea she’s pitched. She’ll go sit on an overstuffed stool in my office, reach into her bag and pull out a crisp copy of The New Yorker. Enid does love her snarky cartoons.

Has she ever laughed at anything I’ve written, you ask (meaning the stuff I’m intending to be funny). Yes and no. Once I saw Enid’s shoulders spasm as she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. She was reflected in my computer screen as she read over my shoulder. Oh, please don’t tell her I saw.

But better than a laugh is an Enid smile. Enid is one of those eye smilers. You know the ones. The corners of their mouths turn up or down ever-so-slightly and 99 percent of the smile comes from their eyes. She has violet eyes. No, not violent. V-i-o-l-e-t eyes. Like her laugh, an Enid smile is a rare treasure. I work for those.

What’s that, Enid? You think I should blog about Heather?

Do you really think anyone wants to read about my Inner Critic?

What if I . . . (Oh, no. She’s going for the paddle ball game.)

No Enid smile today.

What about you? What does your muse look like?

Following my muse has worked out pretty well so far. I can’t see any reason to change the formula now.~Chris Van Allsburg

How to Struggle Successfully

Standard

Somewhere along the way, at least in Western culture, struggle’s gotten a bum rap. If you’re smart, we say, then mastering something new will be easy. That is, after all, what being smart means,. Smart is who you are. You achieve things because of who you are. If you don’t catch on to something quickly or achieve a dream with ease, then obviously you’re not “good” at it. You’re not smart. You should hang it up. Move on to something else. To heck with struggling.

But maybe it’s not all that simple, my little Prickly Pears.

Recently, I’ve become aware that in Eastern culture it’s understood that learning a new skill will involve struggle before it’s mastered. Struggle is seen as an opportunity. Working hard to learn something is how you achieve it. It’s not about who you are, but what you do. You are admired for your perseverance.

Taking a cue from Eastern culture, I’m choosing to see struggle as an opportunity too. At the health system where I work, we label an area or process that could use refinement as an “opportunity for improvement.” The inevitable mistakes that come with learning are not seen as negative. They are a chance to grow, stretch and struggle to make things even better. I love that. It’s freeing and motivating.

My personal struggle of choice is to become a published children’s book author. As much as I love writing and for as long as I’ve pursued publication, realizing this dream is still just out of my reach. Can I honestly say I enjoy the struggle? Oh yes, just about as much as Julia Child adored deep-sea diving. But I am learning to embrace the struggle as part of the process. Who knows, maybe it’s the most valuable part.

Come to think of it, most worthwhile things in life are achieved through hard work and struggle–creating a happy marriage, raising confident, compassionate kids, earning a diploma, starting a business, writing an engaging novel, learning to cook a heavenly holiday feast.

What about you? You must have a dream too or something you’d like to/need to learn that’s a challenge for you. Do you welcome the challenge and assume that you’ll struggle a bit to start? (Note, I define a “bit” as anywhere from a few hours to a decade, depending.)

How you view struggle oftentimes determines how long you’ll stick with something. But remember, struggling is not a red flag telling you that you’re not cut out for this, that you have no talent or that because it’s not “easy” for you that you’re not smart. No need to duck and run. Save the apologies and excuse-making. I (ever-so-humbly) suggest that you join me in embracing the process, my Buttered Niblets. G’head. Give it a good hug. When you can do that, regardless of the outcome, you are already a grand success.

You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it. – Maya Angelou

Frog on a Dime

Standard

In 2012 scientists met a frog in Papua New Guinea who was so small he could sit on a dime, with room to spare. He was declared the world’s smallest known vertebrate.

Before you get the impression that mine is an all frog blog, it’s not. If that disappoints you, please take this as your cue to quietly excuse yourself. No really, I won’t be offended (much). Hop along now. Go read the National Geographic blog about the frog.

Anyone still there?

So, about this teensy freak of the rain forest. He captured my imagination because I see him as a metaphor for my little blog and its place in the blogosphere. (See there? I popped in the word metaphor. You’re starting to see that we’ve turned a corner now, haven’t you?)

Once word got out about the wee dime sitter, amphibian experts noted that we keep finding smaller and smaller frogs. Why? An expert with Conservation International suggested the frogs are adapting to fill a niche that nothing else can fill. And I guess that’s what I’m hoping this blog will do for you (and for me)–fill a niche that nothing else can fill.

And while I’m niche-filling, I will be mindful that there are countless other “word ponds” you can visit in day. I won’t try to “pond-tificate.” I only plan to post words that will encourage, inform and maybe even inspire you, as my fellow writers.

Thanks for reading. I hope you’ll pull up a dime and visit again soon.