Writing The Lonely Muse
Every book has its own atmosphere while it’s being written. Some arrive slowly, over months or years, shaped through drafts and revisions. Others appear almost all at once, as if they’ve been waiting patiently somewhere just outside the page. The Lonely Muse was one of those rare collections that came quickly.
This book is easily one of the most honest things I’ve ever written. Poetry always asks a writer to be vulnerable, but these poems go a step further. They speak about longing, connection, memory, faith, doubt, and the strange quiet spaces between people who care about one another. Some poems sit with loneliness. Others wrestle with hope. A few explore the fragile beauty of finding someone who quiets the noise of the world, even if only for a moment.
What surprised me while writing this collection was how little resistance there was. The poems seemed to arrive fully formed. I wasn’t forcing lines or wrestling with ideas the way I sometimes do. Instead, it felt like I was simply listening and writing down what I heard.
That sense of honesty shaped the themes throughout the book. Many of these poems deal with emotional stillness; the rare moments when the chaos of life softens and you realize you’re standing in something genuine. Some poems look back at childhood and the complicated ways we understand love and faith when we’re young. Others explore adult relationships, the quiet ache of distance, and the comfort of companionship that doesn’t demand explanation.
If there is a thread tying all of these poems together, it’s the idea that inspiration doesn’t always arrive in bright flashes. Sometimes it appears in quiet rooms, in late-night thoughts, or in the presence of someone who simply makes the world feel calmer. Music played a huge role while I was writing this collection. Whenever I work on a book, I create a specific playlist that lives with that project. I don’t always listen to it consciously after the book is finished, but during the writing process it becomes the emotional backdrop for everything on the page.
The playlist for The Lonely Muse is a mix of songs that carry nostalgia, longing, and reflection. Songs like “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac bring that timeless ache of unresolved emotion. Noah Kahan’s “The Great Divide” carries the kind of introspection that lingers in quiet moments. Tracks from Wild Rivers and Sombr hold a softer, more intimate tone with songs that feel almost like conversations whispered late at night.
Other songs added warmth and memory to the process. Tim McGraw’s “Thought About You” and Eve 6’s “Here’s to the Night” carry that reflective feeling of looking back at moments that shaped you. Jessie Ware’s “Finish What We Started” brings a sense of unfinished emotional threads, something that echoes through several of the poems. And then there’s Bad Bunny’s “DTMF,” which might seem like an unexpected addition to a poetry playlist, but it somehow fit the rhythm of writing perfectly. Sometimes inspiration comes from contrast as much as it does from mood. Altogether, these songs created the emotional landscape I was writing inside of. When I hear them now, they feel tied to the pages of this book.
Looking back, The Lonely Muse feels less like something I constructed and more like something I uncovered. It came together quickly, almost effortlessly, but the emotions inside it run deep. It’s a collection about connection, about silence, about the complicated ways we love and remember and hope.
Most of all, it’s a book about listening to the quiet voice that shows up when the world slows down enough to hear it. And sometimes, that voice is the muse itself.