On Muses and Basements

I don’t have a muse. I have a basement. I throw things into the basement, and when I hear something thumping around I open the door. Then I run all over the house trying to capture whatever crawled out. Usually it’s either Romantic Suspense or Science Fiction. Sometimes it’s an Historical Romance. Sometimes it’s a total surprise – a painting or part of a song.

In the case of Suzie’s House, I don’t wait for thumping, I just stand in front of the door and pray there will be something there for me. To my amazement, there have only been two or three times since I started writing it in 2006 that there really wasn’t anything there.

It’s not a case of having a muse in the basement. There is no direct interaction, no one to talk to, no one to hear my pleas or begging. Negotiation isn’t just useless, it’s pathetic. It’s just a basement. I can’t sweet talk it into providing me with material.

What I can do is throw more junk down there. Reading, talking to people, watching movies, observing things as I walk around, listening to music, just about anything is food for the basement.

If I want a direction, I can kind of pick what I throw in. Reading Romantic Suspense is more likely to produce Romantic Suspense ideas, though there have been times I really wanted to come up with something and ended up with something completely different, and frankly, I’m sick and tired of reading about serial killers.

Keeping the door propped open helps provide more ideas that can be melded with whatever else is flying around the room, but the door to the basement closes itself when I’m not looking, and it’s not good to have it open too much anyway. Ever hear of plot bunnies?

So, you all can talk about muses all you want, but you wont hear a peep about them out of me. I’ll just take your comments and throw them into my basement.