First, a special Thank You Very Much to Elizabeth of Elizabeth’s Ramblings – you know what for. :)
It’s a given that we “creative types” each have a muse, defined by The Free Dictionary as a guiding spirit or a source of inspiration; I define the muse as that elusive second personality that comes and goes on a whim to give us stories, ideas, characters, and on and on. But I wonder: what does your muse look like, what does he (or she) act like?
I’m no psychologist, but I’d be willing to bet that the characteristics – both physical and mental –of our muse reflects either who we’ve always wanted to be or who we’ve believed we truly are since childhood, maybe both. Now, this is a rather scary thought for me as my muse is a snot-nosed, bratty little tweenage boy named Frankie (read Frankie’s interview with me on my fiction site, The Other Side of Deanna, here)…. Does that mean that deep in my soul I’m truly a snot-nosed little brat? Did I, at some point in my life, want to be a boy? And does my straw-like red hair really stick out all over my head like that? Do my freckles shine like mud-colored fireflies, leaving me exposed for all to see in the deepest dark of the night? Dear Lord, let’s hope not!
It’s funny though, how I’ve always imagined that shadow of mine acts like that little monster, and looks like it too. I can even see the evil gleam in his beady stone-colored eyes when he gets one of his bright ideas. That look can sometimes be downright scary! It can also be a lot of fun. I find that, when Frankie does get that certain look, I want nothing more than to latch onto his side, hang on tight and zoom down the road on an adventure with him. When I allow myself to think, (probably too deeply), about who Frankie really is I can easily see my seven-year-old self in him, as if I were gazing into a mirror over my shoulder. I remember my parents’ friends saying of me, “You can see the devil in those eyes” or they’d make some comment about little girls with dimples being the devils’ right hand, (I have a deep dimple in each cheek).
I’m not sure what I did to upset Frankie so, but I hadn’t seen him in a while….then yesterday, when I read Elizabeth’s fun post That dam muse! right there he was, trying his best to hide from me, still. But his freckles, and his bright green eyes gleamed through the dark and I caught him! It may have only been for a few minutes, but it was so great to see him again. I hope he comes back soon!
How about you? What does your muse look like and act like? Can you see yourself at some particular age in him, or her? I’m anxious to hear what you think of this theory.