Creative people draw inspiration from everything around them. However, when it comes to relationships, is there really a better muse than heartache?
I wish I could say happiness, but it wouldn’t be true, not for me at least. After my ex and I broke up, I threw myself into my writing. It wasn’t something I thought about or struggled with. The creative process took over.
This weekend marks my 2-year anniversary with my boyfriend. While I’ve never been happier with another person, I’m literally staring at a blank page pleading my fingers to type something. It’s as if my current relationship bliss has rendered me incapable of writing about romantic relationships. It’s embarrassing. I’m a writer, spinning words into gold is my job description.
Let’s face it, the life of an average happy couple is boring. As much as I cherish the simple things like grocery shopping with my boyfriend, it’s not exactly the stuff Pulitzers are made of.
No one wants to read a book about a happy couple. Imagine if Noah and Allie from the Notebook hadn’t lost touch and had just gotten married in the first place. BORING. People love a happy ending, but with a few twists and turns along the way. I suppose there’s always books on HOW to be a happy couple, but I’m almost certain Dr. Phil has that market locked down.
Perhaps the problem stems from the fact that all my current relationship problems are good problems. My boyfriend is so skinny that we wear the same size pants. Even this isn’t really a problem. The way I see it, I now have more clothes.
As great news as this is for my personal life, I can’t help but feel like it’s a death sentence for my writing career. With the exception of Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project, most of my creative role models thrived in times of heartache. Case in point, Alanis Morissette.
Go ahead, gasp. You and I both know she’s never been better than Jagged Little Pill. Was Dave Coulier the love of her life or, the one who got away? Definitely not. But did he inspire one of the most awe-inspiring and beloved breakup songs of all time, “You Oughta Know”? Yes.
So what next? The book’s written. Everyone knows everything there is to know about my love life. And I’m tired of writing about my ex. Nothing gives the impression that you’re still not over him, than constantly bringing it up. I’m over it, I promise. Still, writing about happy and healthy love just isn’t the same.
In case you haven’t figure it out, I’m officially writing a post complaining about how much it sucks as a writer to be in a healthy relationship, and judging myself for it. Oh well, I suppose I’ll think of something. Who knows, maybe my boyfriend will turn out to be an ax-murderer. (fingers crossed) So I ask again,
IS THERE A MUSE BETTER THAN HEARTACHE?
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