I just worked for two weeks straight at my restaurant.  I was beat and decided to take two days to write music in a small boat house in Wisconsin.  (It's the midwesterner in me that feels the need to disclaim how hard I worked in order to deserve a break; it's what we do.).  

I went to the boathouse not only because it's idyllic in every way, but also because it's a great place to focus.  There's not much to see besides water and loons, and there's not much to do except the work that you brought with you.  I brought a keyboard, a notepad, and a pen.  So that's what I did for 12 hours each day: played the keys, and wrote. 
The first 47 hours and 55 minutes I was there, I felt like I was beating my head against glass.  I wouldn't call it "relaxing." I wrote and rewrote the same song dozens of times. But then--in the last 5 minutes I was there-- I had the "aha" moment that writers work for, and I wrote the song I loved.
Because the song muses love watching you work for it.
Reader, I'm a believer in science.  But I'm also a believer in muses: those invisibile, intangible magical feelings that hover above an artist's head, choosing whether or not to drop a song in there, if the writer is worthy. Though there is no scientific proof of them, I believe in them.  I know, because when a song finally comes after days and weeks of work, I throw my head back and exclaim "THANK YOU!"

I write all of this to say: if you feel like you're beating yourself into the ground with your creations, fear not.  It's all part of paying your dues.  The art you want to create is coming. You just need to keep working for it.

I'll see you next Monday. -Em



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