The Muse and I have been getting along lately, better than we have in a long time, but then she got tired or needed a nap or something. I know she’ll be back — she always comes back (when she’s damn fine and ready).
In the meantime, I’ve decided that coming out of the writing zone (or reading zone) when you get so lost that time doesn’t exist and reality fades and the only thing you can see is the words on the page and the world in your head is the Worst. Thing. EVER. It always takes me a bit to adjust and I feel the sads because that awesome feeling is gone (until the next time, of course).
Of course, the better the writing (or reading), the more intensely I feel the let-down.
Oh, to wax philosophical and compare it to life — how you have to have the lows to appreciate the highs and vice versa.
It still sucks.
I’ll still hate it.
But I’ll continue to suffer it as I seek to express myself this way.
‘Tis a gift and a curse to be an artist — actually, that goes for any strength or gift. There’s always a yang to the yin, eh?