The Muse

 

There are different kinds of creativity.

 A lot of the time, I am driven to make things with my hands, whether it is weaving, knitting, or cooking.

However, not a day passes I do not get lost in my head.

These last few years I have been progressively plagued with hand issues. Last February I finally had the nerve conduction studies for a definitive diagnosis of moderate to severe carpal tunnel syndrome. I began wearing splints at night with varying degrees of relief until August when I compounded the problem by developing a trigger finger.

Initially, my plan was to get a steroid injection in the offending appendage to reduce the swelling and call it a day. Unfortunately, the orthopedic surgeon concluded that despite the use of splints the trigger finger was an indication surgery was medically necessary to prevent permanent nerve damage. Even so, I put it off until well after Thanksgiving.

I was somewhat limited with the use of my hands in the weeks leading up to surgery and even more so following.

It was fine. I gave myself permission to indulge in reading, something I rarely do because I have nothing tangible to show for the time spent doing it. From late October through yesterday, I devoured eighty-five books, not including the week I spent in December writing an entire novel from start to finish or attending to the actual day job.

While I dressed two looms around the first of the year, I had not sat at a loom to weave until yesterday, when I knocked out a couple of tea towels before retreating back to my Kindle and reading another book.

The Sandman has not been a friend for ages, and I continue to struggle with sleep. Last night, I woke at 12:50, 1:30, 2:40, and 4:29. I got up the last time because CoalBear wanted to trot outside, come in, and grab a slurp of water before returning to bed. I almost went upstairs to get on my computer because I had dreamt of another character and storyline, but I was tired and do not often have the opportunity to sleep in.

When I awoke for good, the character remained even more vivid and compelling.

I was still not ready to commit to beginning another manuscript because I had the one, I completed in December begging for editing, as well as the double manuscript nearing completion that I started last spring.

So, instead of jumping on the computer, I made a cup of hot tea, settled onto the sofa, opened Notes on my phone, and began jotting down the description of the characters, as well as their names. Two hours later, I realized that my novels are character-driven, rather than manifested in the stories. Honestly, I had never really thought about it because once the muse has taken hold, everything else has always fallen into place naturally.

As a visual human, Pinterest has been a boon. I use it often to create boards, which allow the characters to step from my mind onto another plane where they become real to me.

While I am not quite ready to share the dynamics of this storyline, allow me to introduce Vanessa through pictures, rather than words.