Entertaining my muse is just going with the flow. What happen, happens.
This picture that I have of this interplay between the muse and the critic would make a good hub. The muse is a child who is playing. A muse can be male or female. My muse is female. She likes to make messes. She likes to play and create problems. She plays with abandon. She throws things together and mixed things together that have never been mixed before. She likes to cut with scissors and ball up paper and splash on paint willy-nilly. She likes to look at something that seems ordinary and makes it look special. She takes the block of wood and turns it into a work of art. She likes to take thread and create tapestry. She likes to slap on the paint and calls it art.
My internal critic cleans up what the muse’s play has messed up. Without the muse however, there’s nothing there for the critic to clean up and detail
When the muse is done making the mess . . . Click here to read the rest of the post