I have a creative muse, like lots of writers and artists. Doesn't matter that we all invent these entities in our artist-brains...it's the voice that only we can hear. When I was writing, and involved with writers a lot online, we used to joke about our muses, whine about their absence when we needed pages of manuscript, and blame them for distracting us with creative tangents.
Many of these writers described their muses as a She...maybe following the Greek mythos, where a Muse is supposed to come from. Hmph. My muse never got that memo. You know the wizened old Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid? Meet my muse. And does he help me find creative ideas? No! He sasses me when I whine, pushes me when I don't want to sew another damned petticoat, and nags me when I can't find that trim, because I trashed my workspace.
One week before this doll show, you can bet your sweet bippy he's nagging about that workspace. What I wouldn't give for a sweet muse...a lovely Grecian Goddess in flowing robes, singing melodic encouragement about how my dolls are the answer to all the world's problems.
Not so much.
Mr. Mig is telling me to stop fooling myself. Stop trying to finish just! one! more! doll! before this show. To get my silly self organized. It's time to do the work part of my fun day job. Drag out the boxes, sort through the show-cabinet, remember to get change, make sure everything has tags. Even said I had to do the laundry and dishes before running through a practice setup in my living room floor (which is weirdly fun).
Hey!...I have a new set up! New backdrop, new table drapes, new risers, etc. and I need to try it all out! NOooooo. Made me paint the danged backdrop yesterday. Boring beige, too. My muse is no Mr. Nice Guy.
But (I know how nuts this sounds. Don't care.) he helps me keep my act together, and every doll show has been better than the last--in one aspect or another. So. I'll get to work, drag out those boxes, tags, stands. And then go do the laundry.