Everyone has a muse. They have been the topic of discussion awhile back and thought I would introduce you to mine.
I have discovered I have two muses:
Muse #1 takes the word ‘anal’ to a new level. A day with her is like a day with Martha Stewart. She refuses to show up unless working conditions are in perfect order. Dust on the furniture? Floors need cleaning? Desk not in perfect order? With a look of disdain, she tosses her recently highlighted blonde hair, crosses her exfoliated and tanned arms and demands to know how she is expected to work when exposed to such chaos? Examining her manicured nails, she pouts until the housework is completed. Then she turns a critical eye to the WIP. Research done? Character profiles finished? Plot points worked up? She taps her designer clad foot, impatience marring her perfectly made up face. It is clear she has just arrived from her favorite spa and is in a no nonsense mood. She demands candles and music – Norah Jones, Leeann Womack – or some other soft, sexy ballads. When she is satisfied, she goes to work.
Muse #2 thinks Jimmy Choo is an item on a Chinese buffet. Nothing but jeans and boots for her. Like my other muse, she shows up when she wants but could care less about anything except what’s on her mind. She strolls in, her long legs pacing the floor, black hair swirling around her shoulders, words coming out fast and furious. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing – working, sleeping, attending church. If I tell her now is not the best time, she just cocks her head and smiles then slowly fades away. Her music runs to a more upbeat, bolder type – Shania Twain, Faith Hill, Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson. She and I had the best time one night sharing a bottle of wine and writing a sex scene that will probably never see the light of day.
It is very interesting when they both show up at the same time. As they eye each other warily, I do as any good writer with two muses would. I grab a book and go read somewhere.
Alone.
