"Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice."
Henry Louis Gates
When I sit down to write I begin by inviting my Muse in any way that feels right for that morning--a brief meditation, a lighted candle, a plea for inspiration. But what to do when her Nemesis shows up instead--that evil gnome who hisses that my writing is garbage, that I have nothing to say, that I'm too stupid, too old, too crazy, too boring to produce anything of value?
My method is to give her space, to listen for a moment, to allow her to spew out the worst possible criticism, the ugliest invective she can come up with. Then I address her directly (that is the part of me that has allowed this succubus to invade my brain) and I sternly inform her that she's had her say, that I've heard her, but it's time to let me get on with my work. I know I haven't defeated her permanently. She may stalk the pathways of my brain again tomorrow, but for now she fades away.
Once again I invoke my Muse and I soon feel her presence. She is more powerful than the Other. I write automatically, as badly as necessary for as long as it takes until that surge of power kicks in. I allow the words to spill out for at least the two morning hours I dedicate to writing. I'm in tune with the source from beyond us. WRITE ON!
w.o.w...what a powerful message...yes, it so True!
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