Friday, September 23, 2011

My Less-Than Amusing Muse

With a yawn, Imago settles back in his chair, digging into a bag of chocolate chips, his big brown eyes fixed on me.

“So,” he says, with a crooked grin, “How’s the novel going?”

I glare back at him. He knows for a fact that I’ve been sitting here for an hour and have written hardly a paragraph.

“Look, Muse, are you going to be helpful?”

He shrugs and pops a few chocolate chips into his mouth. “I don’t know – I was kind of thinking of watching some television, care to join me?”

“Watching TV isn’t going to get my book written.”

“Well, that’s ok, you can write. I’ll go watch downstairs.” He starts to get up.

“Muse! You know I’m stuck.”

He settles back into his chair and smiles evilly. “Are you saying you need me, oh wise author?”

I scowl at him. “Come on, Muse, just one line.”

“Not until you tell me you need me.”

It’s a struggle – I watch Muse eating all my chocolate chips and debate whether it is worth it. Finally I say: “Ok, ok – I need you. Now can you tell me what happens next?”

Muse shrugs again. “I don’t know. Have you blown anything up in a while?”


“I’m hungry.” He gets to his feet and starts for the kitchen. I follow him, noticing his grey t-shirt is on inside-out and backwards, and he’s only wearing one sock. Reaching the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator, and stares absently inside. Passing his hands through his tousled brown hair, he gives a sigh and continues staring.

“Really?” I say, “That’s all the help you’re going to give me?”

“Do we have any orange juice?”

“No, we don’t. Muse, will you please give me one tiny bit of inspiration?”

He reaches into the fridge, draws forth a head of lettuce, and hands it to me.

“There you go,” he says.

“What are you talking about? This isn’t inspiration! This is one third of a BLT!”

“BLT!” Imago exclaims, “That’s a brilliant idea. Thanks, author.” He snatches the lettuce back out of my hands, takes a tomato and a packet of bacon from the fridge, and gets to work.

“I’m so glad I could help,” I say. I head back into my room and try to write – knowing I will get no help from my Muse.


Today's Novel Idea Prompted by: "Describe your Muse." Courtesy of Dragon Writing Prompts... except I don't remember what the exact post was, and I can't find it anywhere. It's on there somewhere, I promise. (Also, I know my picture makes no sense -- my Muse chose it.)

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