Personify your muse

If your muse were a person, what kind of person would he/she be?

Mine is a sticky-faced toddler in the midst of the terrible twos. I coax. She says "NO!". Although I'm sure she means it in the most polite way.

Barb

Mine has similar characteristics Barb. I think I picture it as the demi-god Puck though. Giggling nearby, but just out of reach, when called. Whispering in my ear whenever I'm far from my keyboard, MOST especially when I'm driving, and can't even scribble a note.

Ooh, Eraser, I know just what you need! I got a digital recorder for Christmas last year and I take it with me in the car. They even make voice activated ones. Now if they just made waterproof ones for the shower, which is where my muse usually sings.

BTW: Is the book done? I've got the cyber champagne chilling.

Barb

I'm pretty sure my muse is an immensely fat Buffalo Bills fan named Rick. He hangs out on the couch all day, doing nothing but drinking beer, eating pretzels and burping. He's always chock full of useful suggetsions, but the second I ask him to actually DO something, he forgets how to speak English.

Hmm. Well, I have had people--writers, specifically--tell me my muse must be a stimulant junkie ('he must have an I.V. in his arm, jacking Starbucks', I was once told)/insomniac/sociopath who is given to making livestock nervous with his truck stop spoon collection, and is the sort you invite to your house for dinner ONCE and never again. The reason for this is simple: You have to move in the wake of his presence, join the witness protection program, and burn everything he laid grubby paws on.

But if you ask me my muse is about the same size and build as Columbo (Peter Falk). He also smokes cigar ends like the rumpled dumbell, mumbles under his breath in an ever-unnerving manner when I am trying to write on deadline, and wants to know at the most inconvenient times why it is I never keep enough good booze in the wet bar. He likes to pad about the house in MY bathrobe, sans anything else, the belt not tied, and is given to anwering the front door in this manner. Which is okay IF the bicycle-riding Mormons, out to save my sould, are about. It is NOT okay if the parent-teacher association is about, pushing their latest fundraising effort. I can tell the difference in the retreating screams and shrieks.

Here's the thing: Despite all his curious personal habits he does respond appropriately in crunch times, and for that I am always grateful.

Speaking deadlines, I am off to meet one.

Until next time. . .

Jim Hess
sample this: www.thinkingrockpress.com/trp31.html

ROFL!!
You guys are sooo funny!

Today my muse is a small subversive woman in gypsy attire. She has read my palm, noted that my line of writing productivity suggests I should take up animal husbandry, and is now being "helpful" by rearranging my kitchen while suggesting I go take a little nap.

My muse is lying down with a migraine right now. She is a flitterer by nature and has difficulty focusing. Occasionally she over-flits thus producing a migraine, or at the very least a runny nose. My hope is to catch her with a butterfly net &
take her in for "muse therapy" after which I'm assuming she'll settle down like a responsible muse, buy some suitable business attire, and pay attention to her duties. In the meantime, she seems to be feeling better so we're going out for a lunch of pepperoni pizza & green tea.

Litestar, Muse therapy? Ooh, sign mine up! But we'll skip the session on appropriate business attire, if you please. My muse feels that that would be a bit stifling. Of course my muse has been known to dress in the drapes and wear lampshade hats.

Has anybody else's muse taken on the role of Italian Grandmother? All mine wants to do today is wander around, waving her arms while saying, "Eat! Eat!"

This is not helping my writing or my waistline.

Barb

Therapy? My muse could go for an extended round of shock therapy, his arse strapped into ol' Sparky, from 'The Green Mile'.

And thumb screws, if you ask me, wouldn't be a bad thing.

Until next time. . .

Jim Hess

re:

My muse is Egon from Ghostbusters. My mind is the controlled environment in which he works. He wears a lab coat and carries a clipboard.

Re: re:

JDM: Does he collect sporous mold and fungi? Just don't give him a slinky, he'll spend days straightening it and you won't get anything written.

Jim: Sounds to me like your muse is INTO pain. Perhaps you should try a little tenderness? Or is that tenderizer?

Maybe we should all collaborate on a Muse Therapy E-book.
We could call it: GAMES TO PLAY WITH YOUR BRAIN WHEN NOBODY IS LOOKING.

Today, my muse is patiently sitting in a corner contemplating her navel. In her spare time, she creates dust bunnies to hide under my furniture and forces mold to grow in the refrigerator.

Barb

re:

He hasn't gotten ahold of a Slinky just yet, thankfully. It's bad enough when he discovers a public restroom trashcan packed to capacity. He can study that stuff under the microscope for hours. I don't like my muse sometimes.

That's MR. Muse ta ya.

My muse is a pain in the butt. That's what he is. He wants to write when I want to sleep. He wants to diddle around when I want to work. But, like I said, he's there in crunch time, so I suppose his antics must be gladly suffered.

Until next time. . .

Jim Hess

Amused by your muses

My muse is Sid. Sid looks a lot like Woody Allen, but his hair is wildly tousled and he wears immense horned rim glasses. Sid mostly runs around in an agitated state, tearing his hair and talking a-mile-a-minute. His most annoying habit is his tendency to talk in maddeningly incomplete sentences. So, even though he tosses out some amazingly brilliant stuff from time to time, it mostly goes nowhere because he never sticks on a subject long enough to finish a thought.

Sid wanders in and out at will and has a tendency to show up at oddly inconvenient times (when I'm facing a tough deadline, for example) and wants to sit back and talk. At other times, when I really could use his assistance, he's nowhere to be found.

In fact, I spend a lot of time trying to track Sid down, but he's hard to find. He moves fast and he's all over town. He probably owes money to bookmakers.

I meditate on those writers whose muses are tall, svelte, blonde women swathed in flowing classical draperies and I ask the fates: "Why me? Why Sid?"

Sid gnaws a pepperette and turns the television up a notch.
"Can you turn that @#%$ thing down?, " I yell. "No way. It's the playoffs," he yells back.

When he does this I know for sure he is not a product of my invention, for I am, in no way, a sports fan. I get back to work, struggling with a nasty sentence that wants to say three things at once and contradicts itself into the bargain. There is a loud pfffffftttt! that means Sid has snagged the last can of beer in the fridge.

Re: Amused by your muses

I'm in trouble now. My muse has wandered off with Sid to get pointers on perfecting that whole incomplete thought process thing, and they invited Jim's muse along to insure that I never get any sleep again. Ever.

Oh, and now, Word, my muse is demanding a NAME, but will she contribute suggestions? Of course not.

It's a good thing that all I'm supposed to do today is take inventory of what needs mailed out.

Barb

Muses

So I was going to sleep in this morning, as a reward to myself for getting a novel done. But, no. I rolled over, opened one eye, and found HIM, standing over me, straddling me, really.

Wearing MY bathrobe (again), with it opened. I screeched, rolled over, hid my head under the pillows and the dog, and said: WHAT?

Just a couple of things, HE said. First, you can so get four pounds of coffee beans in the grinder, if you leave the lid off. Which brings up an important point: How do you get crushed coffee beans out of tile grout? I stepped on several while I was pouring pancake batter in the toaster.

Second, the coffee grinder doesn't work anymore, so when you go to the store you might want to pick up a new one.

Third, it's okay to pour water on a grease fire, right?

And I was up.

How is your day going?

Until next time. . .

Re: Muses

ROFLOL :lol
Jim,
You really need to put a collar with bells on it on your muse. That and maybe a tranquilizer dart or two wouldn't hurt. And maybe a couple of coils of rope... some duct tape...

**Congrats on finishing the novel! **

Hey, Everybody! Cyber party at Jim's place! If you want coffee, bring your own, I have it on good authority his grinder is busted.

My muse is starting to take after yours. Today she interrupted me to ask: "How long has the microwave been on fire?" Did I mention she also wants to be a "Sweet Potato Queen"? Little majorette boots and all? It's gonna be one of THOSE days.

Now I must get back to serious marketing before the post office closes. I only have fifteen cover letters to write. DO you think anybody will notice if I cut and paste a lot?

Barb

Muses

Actually this was one of the easier writing projects I have undertaken of late. Don't know why.

But, anyway, here's something to work your humor muscles (and muse) around and over: The City of Denver has decided to impose some rather interesting water restrictions (a drought, dontcha know): Motels and hotels within city limits may change bed linens once only every two days.

Okay, says the bigger, more expensive motels and hotels.

Okay? Replied the city of Denver. What?

Sure, they replied. We've been changing the linens only once every five days.

--ew--

So. Fer youse, a challenge: Come up with humorous responses to this situation: Like a reality game show called 'Connect The Spots'. Or how it is Miss Cleo will interpret the sweat stains on the mattress cover to tell your future. Or. . .

Go for it.

Until next time. . .

Jim Hess
sample this: pub66.ezboard.com/bintheround

Your muse

Your muse sounds like good people to me. As for those folks who answer your doorbell, well some folks have no sense of humor.....Tell me does your muse ever misplace your sandles? Mine tends to leave my Addias slides, which are extremely comfortable with or without socks, in places that I can never find.......

Have a phone call.....MO beat Kansas today......Can't tell you how pleased old Annie is tonight.......Later

Annie

Well it's been a long time since...

Been awhile since we visited this thread and there are a lot of new faces at the puddle. Of course there are some old ones who can probably update their muse files too...

Any takers?

My muse got up this morning, put on her pink fuzzy slippers, drank all the coffee, and burped loudly. I've mentioned various projects to no avail although, she has suggested that we should do some in-depth, hands-on research on post holiday sales.

BaRb:ack

Muses

Barb,

My muse is a coffee drinker too. She went down to the local coffee shop sometime last February and just now returned. She doesn't forget anything. Will she tell? She might decide to talk if I stick with the goal of writing for 30 minutes each day.

Too bad that yours has such bad manners. They might have let her hang out and guzzle coffee. Yet, she would not have had time to remodel the kitchen. So go ahead and take her shopping. Happy New Year.

Annie8)

Re: Muses

My muse? Hes a smooth talker,dressed like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever in a polyester suit.The love em an leave um type.His hair is all slicked back,he thinks hes every writers dream-muse.He only comes around when he wants too, gets you all excited by promising to stay awhile, and telling you everything you want to hear..but you know how they are,all flash..then gone by dawn,leaving you ..well,wordless..Im so ashamed.....but like a bad haircut you have to entertain It while Its around,like It or not...at least untill It grows back,or comes back!! Carybelle

Smith

Nevada Smith

What Yarmy???

What about Nevada Smith??? (Weirdo..)
RE-Jimmys Challenge,'How Miss Cleo will interpret sweat stains on the mattress cover,to tell my future'.....Checking the bed closely she spies,melted chocolate...an predicts,'Your diet will fail you this coming year'.....A lumpy mattress,'You will become very prosperous and do well in all things financial.'Then see's various other...marks....'Your 'Love Life',will blossom,as NEVER before!!'.......Heh,Heh,Heh..... Carybelle

eeeeeew!

eeeeeeew!