It occurs to me that I collect the fetishes of my creativity. I have fountain pens, notebooks, stationery, music, knitting needles, more yarn than I can justify (as if yarn needs justification!), many pounds of tea, poetry/art/biography/knitting/etc. books... I don't lack for the materials of inspiration. Alas: materials, left to themselves, tease and jibber.
I just finished a wonderful book, Lydia Cassatt Reading the Morning Papers. (I wrote about it at Tea Reads a few days ago). Lydia is puzzled as she poses and watches her sister create art from her own image. How does she do that? How does she see that?
NaNoWriMo will be starting up in another month or so. Last year, I started a novel and wrote a few thousand words. Over the last few months, I've written more words. I know the story, the characters, the setting - I know them well. What I don't know is how to encourage and befriend my muse. Without her, it's just me, the paper, and ink. Any ideas?