Muse On Call—The Illusion of Inspiration and How To Write Without It

Being a writer (even an aspiring one), we’ve all found ourselves praying to the muse at some point in our journey. We’ve all tried to lure her in different and mysterious ways: trying to create the right atmosphere, inviting her out to a movie for inspiration, offering her a drink, or altering the mind in whichever way we thought would free us of worries and get us in the mood (for writing, that is—don’t get any funny ideas).

We chased the muse and we got rejected, learning that the muse is an elusive creature, not often responding to our courtship attempts. Many of us accept this toxic relationship as a fact—she will do as she pleases, and we’ll just wait patiently, believing that we can’t begin our creative writing work without her at our side.

But what if I told you that you don’t need her to write? Or, more precisely, that you can change this unhealthy pattern, inviting her presence whenever you need a bit of her magic to conjure up the next scene, character, event or story arc?

It’s a common misconception to believe that writing is about inspiration. That it’s a matter of luck, of being struck with the perfect idea which will guide our fingers on the keyboard as we write the best novel of our time. But that is only partially true.

While it’s true that we need to connect to ideas—we need to feel inspired—there’s more to the process than that.

Go with the Flow

You know that magical time when you find yourself sinking so deep into your writing that the outside world disappears? When you only realize you’ve been submerged in your story after looking up and discovering that an hour has passed? That magical state is called Flow.

But flow isn’t magic—it’s a psychological state during which we’re intensely focused and engaged in some activity (in our case, that would be writing).

While we’re in the flow, we’re not worrying about whether the dialog works or if the character’s backstory is plausible—we’re writing, fully immersed and even enjoying the activity.

You probably heard of flow before, even if it was called something else. “Fully immersed” or “being in the zone” are other ways to describe it.

What’s interesting about the state of flow is how it alters our perception—we lose track of time and even of self. We flow with our ideas but we’re not actively thinking. Meaning that we’re not planning, getting distracted, worrying, or doubting. Writing becomes easy when we’re in the flow.

So how do you get into the flow, you must be wondering? Here’s the tricky part—we’ve been led to believe that the flow is some mystical gift sent to us from another realm. Just like the muse, it feels like something we can’t explain, and therefore, can’t control.

But the truth is, it’s more science than sorcery. It’s something we can learn to create.

Reality may be far less romantic than muses, otherworldly states, and that elusive thing we call inspiration. That might sound disappointing, presumably chipping away at the magic of writing, but it’s actually a good thing. Because if it’s explainable, it’s also attainable.

With the right knowledge, flow, inspiration and muses stop being something “out there” and become processes, states, and habits we can trigger at will.

Summoning the Flow

For years I waited for inspiration to strike before sitting down to write. And it would happen from time to time—I’d write the first scene, first chapter, or get an idea for a character or an ending (one I had no clue how to reach), and then stop.

I wrote nothing but beginnings, simply because “inspiration” left me after the first few pages and the muse didn’t tell me how to move forward.

But that all changed when I decided I’d finish writing one story—no matter how bad—just to prove to myself that I could.

I wrote whether I wanted to or not, whether I felt inspired or not. I stopped waiting for the muse. Accepting that this first draft would be bad and no one would ever have to see it gave me relief—and I pushed through.

It was challenging at first, and I’d often find myself stuck before starting a new scene. But I kept forcing myself to write—whatever came to mind, no matter how bad—until the first draft of my horrible fantasy novel was done.

I didn’t notice the change at first, but it came. Slowly, writing got easier.

Ideas began to flow more freely. Characters seemed to write themselves. Scenes unfolded on their own. I’d get lost in my poorly written story, living it and forgetting the world outside. And sometimes, when I’d look up, I’d see her—my muse—sitting beside me and looking over my shoulder with a crooked half-smile.

There’s No Magic in Habits (and That’s a Good Thing)

To break it down into simple, real world terms, I taught myself the habit of writing.

Writing became something I do, not something I wait for. It became an activity I could initiate—not one that needed divine inspiration. And creating that habit made it easier to get into flow.

One saying I often heard as a scrawny child that didn’t like to eat (if only those feelings had stayed) was: “Appetite comes with food”. Later, I realized that writing is much the same.

Ideas and inspiration come while you write. You need to get started to gather speed. You wouldn’t sit in a car waiting for it to move before hitting the has, so you can’t sit around waiting for your story to write itself. You need action to get into motion. And the more you practice, the easier it will become.

And that’s that. No magic. No mystery. Just some psychology, a bit of self-discipline, and a lot of practice and patience.

And now that you know better, close this tab (though if you found this article helpful, consider subscribing), and get to writing. The muse will show up later—I promise.