Muse Day, December 16, 2013

Driving for forty-five minutes or so from appointment to appointment, sometimes the best novel exerpt or introduction to a grand story starts running through my brain word for word. Sometimes these words piece together like magnetic pieces to an elaborate puzzle, click-click-click… My heart pumps and my hands twitch, but the clock warns me there is no time. No time to pull over or pull out the notebook. Miss Muse seems to tease me when I am fullly committed to another task entirely. Of course, as you might guess by now, when I sit down at the end of the day to knock on Miss Muse’s door again, she’s not there, or at least playing hard-to-get, the adult version of hide-and-seek. Why?
If only that endearing story would unfold before me in the sparkling clarity it did when I was toweling myself dry and donning on my tights for work. What would it take for that hilarious banter between too odd ball fictitious characters to fall bback on my lap? Why did it have to bounce off my lap on my way to rural Oregon, WI during a snow storm, only, apparently, to be sucked into a vent and into the car engine where it burned up into fumes?
How does one beckon for Miss Muse on demand, by command, when ready to accept her offerings? Does it take a special dance, like praying to the gods for rain? Is there a superstitious concoction or chant?
Frankly- the problem is I am not jogging my dog in this single degree weather. I’m sure during the jog, despite or because of my 80’s femal rock song playlist, all of these clever and creative stories whoosh back into my brain, like fertilized wind, planting glorious seeds into the luscious breeding environment in my brain.
What do you do, fellow writers, painters, creators? How do you create the ideal creative flow?

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