Sing to Me, Oh Heavenly Muses

Those of us who are creative know of the voices in our head who speak to us and tell us what to bring into the world. Those voices may be quiet or loud, clear or requiring time to interpret. The artist brings something new into the world, but it is not necessarily of the artist himself.

The Muses were the offspring of Zeus and Mnemosyne -- of God and Memory in more modern terms -- and every artist knows and understands this. It is the job of the artist to provide the information for memory (reading other works of literature, etc.), but reading literature is something many others do without creating works of literature. The difference is . . . what else is there to describe it as than as God, as tapping into the great universal, bringing the patterns of the universe into the world so all may see and understand it -- whether clear or requiring times to interpret, and whether told quiet or loud?

What connections, what networks make up the world. A microcosm of the cosmos, brought to you through me. Am I being too bold? Perhaps. I can only tell you my experiences and how I experience my own bringing-forth of my art.

In other words, everything I say here is true -- and everything my characters say, speaking through me, is true -- because they are not my words, but the words of others. I am their mere reporter.