My Muse

My muse arrived late.

Our appointment was for 7:00 a.m.  but she didn’t stagger in until well after noon.

Rather than apologizing for being late, she flopped on the couch and moaned, “I need chocolate chip ice cream.”

That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

Three weeks ago, I banished a pail of chocolate chip ice cream to the freezer in the garage. It was a cruel thing to do to something I so dearly loved – but it was not really me who did it, rather it was my diet.

Now the ice cream was calling my name and apparently its plaintive cries had captured my muse.

“Absolutely not,” I told her, “I am sticking to my diet.”

Her reaction shocked me. She let out a wail and shook uncontrollably.

“It is only ice cream,” I told her.

“Noooo,” she cried, “it is not.  You are siding with HIM.”

“Who?”

“Discipline is MY muse or was.”  Her lips quivered as she tried to continue, “until we broke up.”

“A muse needs a muse?”

She struggled to speak through her tears.

“Tell me more,” I said, “because I am writing about you.”

“What?”

“I mentioned you in a blog comment on Myths in the Mirror and D. Wallace Peach (wonderful lady and fabulous writer) challenged me to write about you.”

“Ohhhh,” she sobbed, breaking into a crying jag.

When she recovered, she confessed, “that was my guy she was writing about.”

“Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that Diana’s disciplinarian mercenary-muse-from-hell is your boyfriend?”

“Was my boyfriend.  We were a team.”

“A team?”

“I gave writers their spark of brilliance,” she said, pausing to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, “and he gave them discipline.”

“I don’t recall ever seeing him,” I said.

She shot me a scathing glance. “No kidding.”

I ignored her jab.

“But from what I read, the guy is a real hard-ass.”

“Well,” she said, renewing her scathing glance, “that is precisely what SOME people require.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Anyone can have an idea,” she explained, “but it takes discipline to pull it off.”

I changed the subject.  “So what happened?”

“He…he….he… started a training website,” she wailed, “it’s all about food, fitness and clicks, clicks, clicks, and (sob) no inspiration whatsoever.  Now, we are done, we are through, it’s OVER.”

I tried to console her.

“But you still have me” I told her, “we always worked well together and don’t sell yourself short, you bring more than just a spark of creativity, sometimes I can see the entire shape of a story from just the first few words you provide.”

But she was inconsolable.  “He doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Good riddance,” I told her.

“And I need chocolate chip ice cream – like NOW!” she insisted.

I tried to protest but as the words, “remember my diet” struggled to form themselves in my mouth,  she shot me a look that struck like a bolt of summer lightening and the lust for chocolate chip ice cream became suddenly overwhelming.

Author: Almost Iowa

www.almostiowa.com

78 thoughts on “My Muse”

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  5. This was quite unique and it held my attention! I was breathless thinking of the ways this could go!
    Ice cream is definitely irresistible! 🍦🍨

  14. Muses are overrated (don’t tell mine I said that).

    And chocolate ice cream only ever goes to one place–the butt. And is bloody hard to part company with (based on the experience of uh…a friend).

    Well, at the very least, your muse has helped you write a very fine piece :).

    1. My muse begs to differ about the overrated thing. She says people who feel that way rely on their muses too much. (Sorry if she comes off as a little catty, she is still very upset.)

      But she has a point. Too often we put off writing or don’t write up to our potential because “we are waiting for inspiration.” Inspiration is a gift. One should not wait around for gifts.

      [there, now that I defended you, will you please share the chocolate chip ice cream with me?]

      [No way.]

  19. Thanks Greg. What a fun and fanciful look at the manic muses who fuel of creativity or lack there of. I’m glad I wandered over from D’s site to walk on the wild side with you and miss creativity-wants-her-ice-cream diva-muse. Kudos, Brad

    1. Your kind words have comforted my muse. She feels a lot better now that so many readers have expressed their appreciation for the work that she does.

  21. Muse without discipline is the story of my life. He must have ditched my muse years ago, which would explain why my version of the Great American Novel remains unwritten. As for your muse…give her the ice cream. She deserves it!

    1. I let her finish the pail of chocolate chip ice cream and as soon as I did, I got an irresistible urge to buy three more pails. Keeping a muse in ice cream is expensive and a lot of work.

  26. Brilliant…such humour is so rare! Loved it. It is interesting that monstrous disciplinarian too could evoke such a light-hearted piece!! 🙂 Thanks for the smiles.

    1. Even though Diana and I have exposed Discipline for who he is, people still hang out with him. When will they ever learn? Gotta go, that ice cream is calling my name again.

    1. I encourage every writer to interview their muse. It is how we will learn to know them better – and who knows, maybe we can arrange some matches. 🙂

  30. Very witty and amusing.
    My favourite bit…
    “and he provided the discipline.”
    “I don’t recall ever seeing him,” I said.
    She shot me a scathing glance. “No kidding.”

  32. Pingback: My Muse (Almost Iowa) | Myths of the Mirror

  33. A muse is so close to amuse with only one space making the difference. And in this essay, the space is definitely missing! I am feeling bereft as I’ve never had a muse, unless I count the turkeys that are now gathering in my back yard and look like they might attack me. Gotta run!

    1. I used to write in a cabin that I built in the woods and all around there were turkeys. I don’t know why it is that a bird not gifted with graceful flight – insists on flying. I used to hear them bouncing off the oak trees.. Whack…Bamm…SLAM Ouch!

  34. This felt a little like Muse Inception – a muse within a muse. I didn’t understand it, but I’m drawn to it. Now I just want ice cream.

  36. My muse is Talenti Gelati–Chocolate Salted Caramel, to be exact. I love how they pack it in those one-serving pint sizes, too……Me, my spoon and my Gelati. Anything else had better clear out.

  38. This reminds me of when I wrote about my right brain and my left brain fighting for control of my keyboard. Those inner people are tough to handle sometimes.

  39. I have a photography muse and a writing muse. The writing muse, always a bit of a wallflower and rarely all that inspired seems to have gone off in a jealous funk recently as I’ve been taking up with the photography muse more. Perhaps I need that discipline muse to prod me into coddling the writing muse a bit – I hear it likes chocolate chip ice cream too.

    1. You have a point, you and your photography muse are producing some great stuff…but don’t worry about your writing muse, she is more understanding than you think, if you would just spend more time with her…..but isn’t that always the case?

      1. More time, yep, that’s the ticket. I should have my muse chat with your muse – see if she can learn something about dialog.

  41. I’ve never found Discipline to be trustworthy. I’ve long suspected that it circles back for the things we avoid. It might explain some of those weird looking charges on your credit card statement, not to mention some of the stuff in your shed.

  42. Oh, no, my muse stole your muse’s boyfriend! I feel so bad. I think the ice cream is a good idea. Your muse sounds miserable. Thanks for the mention and the laugh. Lol. 😀

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