...
Ummmm...
No.
but I will consider the question replacing the phrase "this guy" with "put Theo81 on ignore now".
funny; I thought that theo81s was the best post in the entire thread
...
Ummmm...
No.
but I will consider the question replacing the phrase "this guy" with "put Theo81 on ignore now".
No, I don't. Because if I did, it would be too easy to think, "My muse isn't cooperating, so I can't write. Guess I'll play Diablo instead."
Plot bunnies on the other hand? Hells yes.
I do. They're very fun to write about or to write into your work. I also hear they taste good with a mustard sauce.Do you guys believe in muses?
Just to clarify I am fine writing without him, and I don't feel like I was ever using him. I just seemed to get a lot of ideas from being around him. And he is a nice guy.
I am surprised so many of you don't believe in muses. Our life experiences help our writing experiences. They give us stuff to draw from. I made loosely based a few short story characters on him. Nothing that actually happened, but I just thought about what he would do in the situations I created like how he would handle being held up in a robbery and some stuff like that. He made for a fun character (probably because he is a fun guy). I don't feel as though I did anything wrong wondering how he would handle certain situations and then writing about it.
I feel like we are almost debating if art imitates life or if life imitates art. Thanks for all the posts.
I am surprised so many of you don't believe in muses. Our life experiences help our writing experiences. They give us stuff to draw from. .
they absolutely do. On the other hand, that isn't how i'd define "muse." I always considered the notion of a muse something separate from simple experience. And I have plenty of experience....just no muse.
Yes there damsure are. I had two of them menacing my vegetable garden just yesterday, big suckers with long noses, just itching to eat my cabbages and broccoli . . . . . .
Oh, wait . . . those were mooses.
My bad.
caw
I know plot bunnies exist. I can hear them behind me, in their pen, plotting a revolution. Ungrateful little bastards, after all the lettuce and hand-peeled mini-carrots I've fed 'em....