Stalking The Mid-life Muse

The Universe is a strange place, filled with all sorts of cosmic irony. Though I consider myself as vibrant and non-conforming as the next age-defiant Baby Boomer, it was my misfortune one day to discover that –through no fault of my own-- I was quickly and inevitably approaching age 40. I wish that I could calmly report that I accepted this harrowing revelation in stride, but that would be something less than truthful. Confessing that I went into existential shock might be more accurate. But over the chuckles of the Grim Reaper, I heard another sound -- a persistent call to re-unite with my creative Muse.                                                                 

Once upon a time, back during my idyllic college days,  I could lose myself for an entire weekend on a creative project, hardly stopping for food or sleep until I was satisfied with the day’s writing.  But something happened outside the halls of academia. Life slowly intruded on my creative time until the reality of paying bills turned my dream of writing the Great American Novel into a childhood fantasy that was abandoned along with my Star Trek collectibles.

Unfortunately, the dreams that we repress to make a living have an annoying habit of demanding attention as we face mid-life. And a Muse too long ignored eventually becomes cranky.  For some creative people, the cost of repressing a dream for decades is depression and addiction. Others put their talent on hold, trusting that the glorious day will come when the bills are paid and the kids are on their own. Sadly, the Universe doesn’t always care about our timetables and many talented people put off their dreams too long and  miss the opportunity to share the wonderful gifts that only they possess. As I hit 40, I realized that my time and creativity were both ticking away and that I had come to my own personal ‘now or never’ crossroads.

I’m certainly not the only person who has ever reached this daunting fork in the road. Other writers and artists have returned to their art in their forties, often explaining that their Muse stomped into their bedroom one dark night and demanded to be heeded. Project ideas nagged during staff meetings and Little League games. Characters presented themselves in dreams and bits of overheard street conversation hounded them until they were jotted down. Doodles on shopping lists expanded into detailed designs that begged to be given life on a mural.  Fortunately, many middle-aged creatives who heed the Muse’s call often find themselves rewarded with works of art that possess a depth that was beyond their younger selves. And they have developed a belligerent determination borne of desperation that sees them through the maze of rejection that stands between any creative person and their goal.

For myself, a dollop of mid-life panic was just the thing to finally get me focused on my writing career. Over the next seven years I published two books –Eternal Café and Sisters Odd – and edited WomanScapes, an anthology of women’s fiction. I also contributed to The Insomniac Tales, a collaborative re-visioning of the Canterbury Tales. Now as my 50^th birthday looms near, I’m taking on a new project – developing a do-it-yourself workshop for creative people of all ages who have lost touch with their personal Muse. I’ll be working in partnership with Nancy Sampson Bach, fellow author and Baby Boomer.