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I am not a mused
Posted by doggonedmysteries
It never fails to amaze me when a flash of insight smacks me in the head.
“That’s me, Honey.” My muse buffs her nails and admires them.
“Geez, I wish you’d stop popping in like that. Can’t you arrive without startling me?”
“What do you want, fireworks and a fanfare or something?”
“Wait, I’m talking to them. We’ll discuss your arrival and where you’ve been lurking later.”
“Lurking? Me? I never lurk.” She pastes an innocent look on her face.
“Hold on a minute folks. Yes, you do too lurk. You sulk, you hide, you pout, you primp, and you leave me sitting here staring at a blank page.”
“Do not.” She sticks out her tongue.
“Do too.”
“How often do I call you and you don’t answer?”
“Well, I hear you but I can’t come running willy-nilly all the time.”
“Half the time would be nice.”
“Besides, you have the weirdest hours.”
“Tough, those are the times I can actually sit down and do some writing. You knew that when you signed on. Anyway, back to the readers. As I said before it amazes me when inspiration hits.”
“Me!”
“Shut up!”
“I’ll stumble along tearing out my hair over one paragraph and another when suddenly the words flow and I can barely type fast enough to keep up. Amazing.”
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Never cross your muse
Posted by doggonedmysteries
My muse avoids making eye contact. I dust off my keyboard, clean the monitor, and straighten my desk. Then I take some time to dust the living room and vacuum the rugs.
“You ready to help me yet?” I ask as I sit in front of the computer again.
Silence.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
No answer.
“This is about the ad I put in The Mystical Weekly isn’t it?”
“You were looking for applicants for a muse!” She began to sob and scrub her face with a lace handkerchief.
“Yeah, and a unicorn, a troll, and an elf applied. I turned them all down flat. I don’t write fantasy I write mysteries.”
“But, but why the ad? Are you firing me?” A huge tear dripped off her nose. Not attractive.
“I thought about it. You haven’t been around much lately.”
“I have too but you weren’t listening to me. You were too busy.”
“Okay, I admit it. I have been run ragged lately but when I sit down to write you aren’t here. Maybe we need to synchronize our watches.”
“I don’t own a watch. I’m a freaking muse.”
“I was being rhetorical. Would it help if I apologize?”
“It’s a start.”
“I’m sorry.”
Posted in My blog, Writer, Writing
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Musing on my muse
Posted by doggonedmysteries
Her voice made me jump out of my reverie. “I’m back.”
Once my heart settled back into its normal rhythm, I grumped at her. “It’s about time. I’ve been struggling here.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the writer.” My muse flounced over to a nearby chair and sprawled into it.
“Yes, but you’re my muse. You’re supposed to be here to give me inspiration.”
“Inspiration, shminpiration I have my own needs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know.” She stretched out her left hand and checked out her fingernails.
“No, if you don’t tell me. I don’t know.”
“I need space. I need my privacy. I need love too.”
“A likely story.” I turned back to my computer.
She stood and tapped me on the shoulder. “I’m serious here. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you only disappear when I’ve written my characters into corners that’s why.”
“So don’t do it.”
With that exasperating bit of news, I shoved my chair away from the desk. “Pray tell, how is that possible?”
“Write literary fiction. Give up on the mysteries.”
I picked up my phone. “Is there someone I can call to have you replaced?”
“Now, is that nice? After all I’ve done for you.”
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