My muse arrived late.
We had a writing session scheduled for 7:00 a.m. sharp but she didn’t wander in until well after noon.
Then she just flopped on the couch and sulked.
“What gives?” I asked her.
“Don’t start in on me,” she snapped.
I hate it when she gets in a mood. Usually, she is not like that. We mostly have fun together – but when things do not go well for her, she takes it out on our writing.
“Let’s begin,” I said, then suggested a topic. “How about making today a ‘Stan’ day?”
“How about a ‘My Wife’ day instead? We always have fun with that.”
Her frown only deepened.
“Or we could write about ‘My Stuff’?”
“Why don’t we write about my issues instead?” she said.
“I am not into writing today.”
“WRITE THAT DOWN.”
Muse is not feeling like musing.
“What give you the right to tell me how I feel?”
Muse has a lousy attitude today.
“Hey, I come in here day after day to give you material, no matter how I feel, and all you do is sit like a lump on a log and jot it all down. Maybe for once, I could have a bad day. Did you ever consider that?”
“THEN WRITE IT DOWN.”
Muse having bad day.
“So what’s bothering you?”’
“Anyone in particular?”
“Each and every one of them.”
My muse hasn’t been the same since she broke up with the love of her life, Discipline, (who is also D. Wallace Peach’s muse).
She took the breakup hard, but she fell in with Creativity on the rebound.. For awhile there, the prose bubbled wildly from a well of infatuation – until Creativity went chasing after…
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“I’m writing about you.”
“Who told you to do that?”
“You did, you said you wanted me to write about your issues.”
“You idiot, this is a fiction blog, you are supposed to write about me by not writing about ME.”
My muse arrived at 7:00 a.m. sharp, brimming with enthusiasm.
“Now we are getting somewhere.”