K. Marvin Bruce

One of the greatest challenges I face as a writer is dwindling inspiration.  Those days when the Muses play coy and I feel like writing and have the time to do it, but the ideas just don’t come. I’m the kind of person who looks for causes.  Unapologetically.  I’ve discovered, I think, a few.  One is change in sleep patterns.  I had a few days off and, feeling perpetually sleep deprived, slept in a bit.  This immediately impacted my writing.  I need a schedule, and I write early. Another factor is my writing depends on what I read.  I’ve been reading a book which, although entertaining, isn’t really inspiring.  I draw so many ideas from what I read that having a long, nondescript book in hand can set me back ages. A third factor is lack of encouragement.  When it has been months since I’ve had something accepted for publication, it begins to feel like I’ve lost the touch.  Everything I read seems better than that which I...

Some days I can’t seem to find the groove.  I wake up a couple hours before heading to work so that I can write, and some days I just stare blankly at the screen.  As if my mind were allergic to ideas. Then there are the times the Muses trip over each other, trying to crowd into that limited space I call my mind.  I’ll start one story, then an idea for another will come and crowd out the first.  That which seemed so damned urgent can now wait until I get these words down.  But then another idea bursts in, unannounced. I wonder if other writers experience this.  I once knew a media professor who smoked a pipe.  He once said that if he couldn’t find the tobacco he liked he could resort to cigars.  “Or even cigarettes.”  I’ve never smoked.  I don’t see the need to, but his words reminded me of the behavior of my Muses. Some days I work on my novels (my pipe).  I prefer to write long, and I have completed six novels over th...

The part-time writer has a limited supply of time.  Although I try to be consistent with the piece of my day dedicated to writing, I also find myself the victim of inspiration.  I mentioned in an earlier post that I’d finished four novels.  I’ve begun far many more than that. The works I abandon, like children I love, are never intended to be neglected.  I write by inspiration.  Writing is like having a favorite food; if you eat it every day it soon loses its intensity.  Most of what I write reflects my current Muse.  Apart from days when I just have to force myself, my writing is based on that charmed idea at present in my head, beguiling me with possibilities. I’m currently working on a new novel.  I began it about two weeks ago.  At the time I was in the middle of another novel.  Well, “middle” is a bit generous.  I’d actually written the first chapter and a half, and I’m still in love with the idea.  Like a wanton...