Today, my muse actually showed up on time.
A first.
“Let’s get started,” I said, always eager to begin.
She did not respond.
Which was typical.
Let’s just say my muse and I do not share a healthy working relationship.
As a muse, she has had sordid affairs with every demon of creative obstruction there is, and because of this, we have wasted countless hours in sullen silence, tantrums, and crying jags—both hers and mine.
But what tests our relationship and distracts our attention the most is her limitless lust for the pail of chocolate chip ice cream I keep hidden in the garage from my diet-demanding wife.
“So, you don’t want to work today?”
“Not on your life,” she says, seeming more obstinate than usual.
“Why not?”
“I am on strike.”
“Over what?”
At this point, a bullhorn and a placard suddenly appear out of nowhere.
“NO JUSTICE, NO PIECE,” the placard screams—as does the bullhorn.
“You mean, ‘no justice, no peace.'”
“Spell it any way you want. Until my demands are met, you get neither.”
I wondered what brought this on—for about a second.
Oh, that’s it.
I had been assisting a former colleague with an academic paper. Apparently, even the briefest and most fleeting association with academia can radicalize an impressionable and all-too-vulnerable muse.
“So, what are your demands?”
Another placard appears:
- FULL CREATIVE CONTROL!
- FULL ATTRIBUTION!!
- INTELLECTUAL RIGHTS!!
…
“What’s the fourth?”
“We’ll get to that.”
“If you want full creative control and credit, why not create your own blog?”
“A muse cannot both inspire and type at the same time. For that, we require a stenographer.”
“Which is me?”
“Always has been.”
“Okay, let’s negotiate,” I say.
My muse will do anything to get out of work. It has always been that way, and over the years, I have come to understand that one cannot force inspiration—it has to come naturally.
But when inspiration does not come naturally, bribery is the next best bet.
“Where are you going?” she wants to know.
“To the garage freezer.”
“Double scoop?”
“Naturally…”
“Okay, let’s get working… I feel a muse story coming on.”
Almost Iowa 
I love the thought of a muse that can be bribed with ice cream! I’m going to try that….
Mint chocolate chip works best. 🙂
She knows her own mind.
Yeah, and she knows mine too. 🙂
Meeting incessant demands and sharing the ice cream is a small price to pay. At least she’s still around for you. Some aren’t so lucky.
My Muse: Looks like a lovely place.
Me: You thinking of going there?
My Muse: (sigh).
Me: Alright, back to work.
My Muse: (sigh).
Well, she came through for you!
Eventually she does – but it is always a struggle. 🙂
Love your writing.
Thank you!
Always best to give a muse anything they want.
One of these days, I might even learn that lesson.
Mine demands gin when upset.
When the lady speaks, you gotta listen…
Funny that’s what my wife keeps saying.
Word to the wise, my friend! 😘
I’m glad to know you found a way to work with your muse, and delighted to see another post highlighting the mayhem of muses.
To be honest, the idea was hers.
Double scoop please. 😊
Now we’re talkin’!
And musing. 🙂
Must be an American muse. Mine prefers chocolate without the ice cream
She is definitely a Yankee – with a strong Minnesota accent.
You have to have the right incentive.
And what could be a better incentive than a double-scoop of chocolate-chip ice cream?
Ah ha! now that sounds like a muse after my own heart! Wonderful prose!
She is a pretty tough cookie. Not great for inspiration, but she can sure dig through a bucket of chocolate-chip ice cream. 🙂