My Muse...

Here's a conversation with my Muse. Prompted by another Writing.com author.

I sat idly at my computer, staring out the glass door in my dining room. Mint was growing between the slats of the wooden deck and held the attention of my cat as it swayed in the breeze.

“What the hell am I going to write, Gir?” I asked the cat. She just turned her head and stared at me with her green eyes, her tail twitched and she went back to watching the mint.

“This sucks. Either I don't have time to write or I can't think of anything at all. I bet my Muse is on vacation somewhere.”

“No. I'm not,” someone said behind me. I think I jumped about three feet and that high pitched squeal, yeah, that was me too.

“Ohmyfreakinggod!” I hollered at the man standing behind my rolling computer chair. “who the hell are you and how did you get in here?”

“Please. I'm your freaking Muse.”

“What?” I gaped at the man. I was expecting a woman, first of all and weren't they supposed to be dressed in clothing from ancient Greece? That's what they wore in that episode of Charmed.

“A Muse does not have to be a woman. You should know that by now. Not all of the ancient stories and folk tales are precise.” He folded his arms across his chest. He wore blue jeans and a t-shirt as well as one of the bracelets I had been making lately.

“How'd you get that?” I asked, trying to focus on something.

“You made it. Duh.”

“Wow, you're sarcastic, aren't you?”

“Aren't you?”

“Well, yeah. Wait, you're my Muse?” My mind was clicking away as fast as my heart raced. “And you obviously can read my thoughts.”

“You are a quick one.”

“Wow, I can so do without the snotty remarks.” I leaned back in my chair. Gir's attention now focused on the man in the kitchen.

“Fine. I am not on vacation, I can hear your thoughts, which should be obvious by the way. I'm wearing this bracelet because I helped inspire you to make them and you of all people know that Charmed is just a TV show. You write fantasy, why can't your Muse be a man? You are always thinking outside of the box, right?”

“Well, sure.” I couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Hm. Speechless for once. Nice.”

“Yeah, you can go now,” I said, smirking. “I'm sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my brain around all of this.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Okay, so why are you here and heckling me?” I asked, getting a little fed up.

“Well, you ignore me all the time. I figured the best way to get your attention would be to just appear out of thin air.”

“How's that workin' for ya?”

“So far, not so good.”

“Well, you can't just pop out of nowhere and expect me to be civil. If you are my Muse, you'd already know how I react to surprises.”

“True. Not my best idea by far, but it is working. You are listening to me, right?”

“Good point. So you think I am ignoring you?”

“I have been giving you so many good ideas lately and you're just blowing me off. It seems like the harder I try, the more you tune me out. Not cool.”

“I'm not doing this to you on purpose. I just feel like I have so little time to do anything. I work full time, I have the paper route... my house is suffering because of it all and –”

“Gah! Enough with the excuses. You read all sorts of blogs and stories by other people who are just as busy as you, if not more. You're awful good at making up some reason or other to not do something. We both know you tend to be a bit lazy.”

“Hey! Okay, yeah I know I can be lazy,” I admitted.

“Well, then write, dammit! You've got the stories in you, I'm feeding you like a freakin' I.V. tube. What more can you ask for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” I said with a snort. My Muse just stared me down. “All right!” I relented.

“All right, what?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I will do my utmost to write more, even if it is something as silly as having a discussion with my Muse.”

“Okay, now I'm going on vacation.”