Muses for Muses

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Guest Blogger: Angela B. Mortimer

Supposedly all writers have them,  and before my main protagonist my idea of a muse were the Greek Goddesses of inspiration, or a vague notion in a writers head explaining why we did it.  I started to write and finish my first novel, and this time I’d get past three chapters.

I sat in the garden one lovely, sunny day and took my pen and started.  I never start with much of a plan; just take hold of a pen and paper or now my keyboard and go.  It was set in London, perfect I thought and a women working in an office – fine, filled the criteria for “write about what you know”.  She’d lost her love; sad I thought, run over by a car, there had to be more to it…

That’s as far as I got. Suddenly, London wasn’t big enough, neither was my office worker, for I was hijacked by Doella. The pen flew, I needed no research; a great disappointment. I was shocked, amazed, and every time I didn’t like her or wanted to change her story I was fighting the Hydra. She wouldn’t be silenced and for many, many pages, I fought the battle. I finished – it fitted together perfectly, my wanted changes would have stifled the end game. All left to do now translate what looked like a cross between English and Latin.

I wrote other books – my ideas – needed research, great – like research, but I couldn’t forget Doella.  Scared of how had I come up with such a goddess?  It had to be past interests in my memory and I’d rearranged it into a story. I kept finding my influences; comic books, love of myths, especially Greece, Rome, early City States and our North European epic gods. Also a fascination with quantum physics although I was too young when I first wondered about the reality of the reality; I didn’t know basic physics then.  I came to the conclusion that DC and Marvel had kick-started my child brain into looking into the above subjects I like best. But that still didn’t fit Doella?

I kept looking until I found Mari, the ancient goddess with the blue necklace of stones married to her snake son… I’d found her… I must have known the goddess before… there she was; at last and she’d had so many different aspects in countless countries.  I’d written about a goddess I’d forgotten and brought her into the present. I should have felt better but I was still uncomfortable. I’d written many books by now and the track of my influences very clear; Shakespeare, my dad explaining physics and his fairy stories and the sad state of the world etc. Easy – thankfully.

So I’ll raise a glass to Mari, an ancient goddess deep in my subconscious, for the strangest book I’ve ever written – so strange it’s endless.  I must leave the comfort of my normal influences and go back to her and her family. I’ve learned to like and admire my Mari, Doella, she is more human than most humans… many thanks my muse, unlocked from my memories, we will work together again.


About the Writer

angela mortimer

Born in the UK, Angela B. Mortimer attended the West of England College of Art. She loves reading sci-fi and fantasy, and spends a lot of time outdoors, star gazing, wondering what might be out there. She resides in Australia, married to an Australian. To learn more about her and her books, please visit Angela B. Mortimer