Real Talk: How to Be a Writer When Your Muse Is on Vacation

It’s 8 a.m., and I’m staring at a blank page—coffee in hand, laptop on my desk, and absolutely no ideas in my head. The muse, if she ever existed, is clearly out sipping margaritas in some distant paradise. And isn’t that just how it goes? We, as writers, are conditioned to wait for inspiration like a knight awaiting a damsel in distress. “I’ll write when the mood strikes,” we say, while pompous smoke escapes from our asses because we think we’re superior to the next person. And then we don’t write. Weeks pass, the blank pages multiply, and before you know it, you’re questioning your entire existence.

Here’s the thing: creativity isn’t magic. It’s a grind, a habit, a muscle you have to exercise—even when you’re bored out of your mind or too tired to think straight. And no, it doesn’t come to us in some romanticized vision of suffering. Creativity shows up in the most mundane ways. You can be folding laundry, cleaning your nose, or scrubbing dried spaghetti sauce off your kitchen counter. So, what’s the secret to being a writer even when you feel like you don’t want to be?

Step 1: Embrace the Boring Work

Creativity comes when you’re hammering at it and creating a routine. The muse isn’t some divine force that blesses us mere mortals with her celestial presence; she’s the roommate who shows up when you’ve done your chores. So, start small. Write one sentence about your breakfast. Jot down a random thought you had in the shower (my personal favorite, by the way). Describe how your neighbor’s dog looks at you like you owe him money.

Showing up—even when it feels pointless—is the first step.

Take it from me: some of my best ideas came when I wasn’t trying to write. One time, while listening to Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi on my way to one of her concerts in LA, I suddenly thought, What if I write a story about a guy who enjoys taking photos for no fucking reason? (Yes, that became a story.)

Step 2: Make Boredom Your Secret Weapon

Creativity often springs from silence, not chaos. Studies show that “zoning out” can lead to deeper, more original ideas. So, instead of binge-watching another true-crime documentary, take a walk. Stare at the clouds. Let yourself be bored. And don’t overthink it. I once spent 20 minutes staring at a crack in my ceiling and suddenly thought, What if that crack was a doorway to another dimension? Boom—another story idea. (No, I wasn’t high.)

Step 3: Write Crap (and Be Okay with It)

Let me tell you a secret: nobody’s first draft is good. Not mine, not yours, not even Stephen King’s. The key to creativity is to give yourself permission to write garbage. As Anne Lamott famously said, “Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts.” Treat your crappy drafts like compost. They might stink now, but they’ll grow into something worthwhile with time and effort.

Step 4: Steal Like an Artist

Sometimes, creativity means borrowing from the world around you. A snippet of conversation, a strange headline (if you live in Florida), or even a mundane observation can become the foundation for your next masterpiece. I once overheard a man talk about a story at a diner about a subject I was intrigued about. Did I write it down immediately? You bet. That line became the opening of Missing, a story that is available now on Amazon. 

Step 5: Show Up, No Matter What

Here’s the harsh truth: creativity doesn’t wait for you to feel ready. It doesn’t care if you’re tired, grumpy, or convinced you have nothing to say. It shows up when you do. And that’s really the heart of this post: being a writer isn’t about waiting for inspiration to strike. It’s about showing up—day after day, even when it feels pointless or you’d rather do anything else.

As Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Big Magic, “You can measure your worth by your dedication to your path, not by your successes or failures.” So, the next time your muse decides to take an extended vacation, don’t panic. Do the boring work. Embrace the silence. Write the crap. Steal the ideas. Because, in the end, writing isn’t about magic or muses—it’s about showing up.

And hey, if nothing else, you’ll listen to Lady Gaga, stare at the cracks in the ceiling, and eavesdrop on conversations at diners like the creep you actually are.