‘Where art thou, Muse’? The incubation period.

It is with deep frustration and twisted emotion that I experience these barren deserts of creative stuntedness. They call it the incubation period. What creativity will be born from this incubation? What new idea will hatch out from this dull wasteland of impeded creative flow? Shakespeare himself so perfectly puts it…

Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love’s sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time’s spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent’st his scythe and crooked knife.

Sonnet 100 by William Shakespeare

 The urge to create does not go, yet I am unsatisfied with my worthless scribbles, forced to sit for long hours pondering a blank canvas. I fool myself by preparing the equipment carefully and lovingly with the secret hope that some drop of creativity will trickle through and release this block. The hours tick by and the canvas remains as white as light, the tools return to their place at the end of another fruitless night.

 

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One thought on “‘Where art thou, Muse’? The incubation period.

  1. Pingback: ‘Where art thou, Muse’? The incubation period. | flaircreationsblog

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