I used to have a muse. He used to visit me in the late 90s, while I was trying to write term papers. I would think in academic papers, which by the way has an rigid form. My mind would rebel and a few really good poems would leak through my ears when I was trying to get some sleep.
I would finally after being nagged for thirty minutes or more climb out of bed, and write the words swirling through my head. It was awful crowded in there some days. Nowadays my brain is quite roomy and I don’t get the competition I used to get. But, sometimes it feels like I lost a lot of the furniture that I used to trip on when I was younger and my brain was more active.
So my muse is haunting some other poor sucker who is trying to get some sleep for that big day ahead of her. I almost feel sorry for her.
Just yesterday I was wondering where my muse had gone. I was thinking of some ideas to send to this fantasy contest by Baen. My idea generator sputtered and died. So today I am going to take some time to just sit and think with a pen in hand. I’ll use some of the suggestions that Dean W. Smith gave me on the last workshop. I can do this… at least write an 8,000 word story by the end of the month.
If any of you slackards have seen my muse, send him my way and I’ll send you the horse that has been neighing in my dreams. I am sure it will be an even trade.