What is the opposite of a muse?

Prioritizing projects with less time than e/v*e-r+ (with authentic baby computer smack)

Muses motivate us to create. Sometimes they are external influences, something or someone that fills with an energy and confidence that we must capture. Other times, when writing is going well, I think I am the muse myself. I feel like a goddess of inspiration, connecting ideas, producing art, weaving in science. 

I used to assume the answer to my titular question was: Distraction. Any distraction that keeps you from writing and creating, that is the opposite of a muse.

So when Jacob approached me about contributing to the Archetypist again via this Substack my brain immediately flagged: Distraction. This will keep you from the novel.

Because I let that happen before. When we initially launched the podcast, I think our enthusiasm for the project surpassed our capacity for it – and that was back before both our families welcomed new babies. I have an eight month old. I've been carrying this new novel in my imagination for so long it's starting to weigh on my soul. Right now, my time is finite and fragmented, I should probably only chose one project to work on during in the 11 minutes my daughter stays down for her nap.

Because I’ve been telling myself that I can't write when the baby is awake. I need a quiet space, at least 20 minutes to get started, and a full hour to get anything done. And I know it won't be like this forever. Eventually, our family's sleep patterns will become predictable enough for me to have reliable, dedicated writing time. But I don't know when that will happen.

And that uncertainty is terrifying.

I have this irrational fear that by the time I reach that point, all my writing friends will have moved on. What if I can't find them and catch up? What if the frustration and loneliness I feel now lasts forever? 

There is a thread in this depressive spiral, a theme deeper than distraction, a more powerful anti-muse. Amid these fears I remembered that the opposite of creation is destruction. There’s a reason I scroll my phone instead of opening my novel outline while my daughter is independently eating or playing. It's the same reason many authors write on laptops with no wi-fi or with browsers that block social media. It's because we doubt. If I start I might not go anywhere. If I try it might not be good.

Doubt is the opposite of a muse. It can destroy your art, and maybe you too. It's endemic among writers. It can keep us from starting and continuing and finishing projects. It can keep us from meeting each other at cons. It can keep us from sharing our authentic selves – especially when we are at exhausted and vulnerable points in our lives, the way I am now.

I guess I'm talking about imposter syndrome. And I'm tired of it.

So although my head clocked this new project as a distraction, my heart, my muses, whispered: Be heard. Be seen. Don't be afraid.

Because as a new mom, I think the only thing I yearn for more than long periods of peace to work on my craft is community. And spending a small portion of my precious writing time contributing to our discourse is not going to destroy any of my books.

So here I am. It's wonderful to see you. I am only going to contribute to The Archetypist whenever doing so contributes to my wellbeing. I plan on writing a review series on craft books (which I've been noodling on for quite some time), sharing more thoughts and analysis on different genres the way we did in our original podcast format, and writing about community building from my perspective as a con organizer. I can't wait to hear what you think, too.