Caution: Writer at Work
I have a muse- rather I had a muse who used to inspire me. She would lull me to sleep with visions of what if, strange lands and fascinating characters. I might be in the middle of some mundane task and she would interrupt me to record a sudden inspiration.
“I’m kind of busy right no-.” I protested. I had been putting off this chore too long.
“Oh no, put that dish sponge down this is way more important.” she insisted. Despite my occasional complaints I always obeyed her and never regretted it. Part of the joy of insight was not knowing when it would strike. My muse and I got along great. And the characters she introduced were far more interesting than any real people I knew.
In the morning when I woke she insisted I stay in bed a few more minutes to finish a tale from my last dream. Not anymore. Something happened to my muse. She got lazy or perhaps she found my real life got in the way too much. Whatever. I would lie in the darkness waiting to be whisked off to adventure but remained in a cold slightly stale bedroom. In the morning I couldn’t flee fast enough from the latest boring dream.
Where is my muse, I thought sourly as I wandered through the house one cold morning. She was on the couch sleeping off a bender. I kicked the furniture.
“Wake up bitch and get to work.” but she just snorted something rude and rolled over. That’s it I decided, I had enough of this sloth.
“Alright get up, you’re fired.” I announced with hands on hips in full affront.
“Wha-what?” she finally realized I was speaking to her. I threw her coat and a pair of barely worn shoes at her. Her services were no longer needed, I informed her.
“But we have a history. I have taken you to so many places babe. I introduced you to major players you were too shy to meet. I helped you to spin great plots. I taught you how to dialogue. Remember that cool white dragon in your novel I introduced to you?” she bragged but I wasn’t buying.
“Yeah I remember. I was scared shitless at his entrance and thanks for the warning.” at least my sarcasm still worked. Out the door she went.
Now I got to find me a new partner in writing; so I put an ad out to the cosmos: Wanted, a muse who will inspire me to finish what I start. Who can keep me on task even when I don’t feel like it. Who will take me out of my dull life and show me how to soar through my imagination. Must have prior experience.
1 comment:
This is the funniest thing I've read. I think my muse decided that being a derelict was more ideal than my muse and slipped out of my room one night and never came back.
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