My muse, Calliope, is out of control. She used to be well-behaved, sitting quietly in the back of my mind, whispering words of inspiration. Now she's decided that she needs to write content for my webpage! The nerve!
Why would she be so pushy? Okay, maybe she's bored. I haven't been writing much lately, as other things have taken up my time. She should understand that and give me some space. But no-o-o-o-o. She can't just get a book and entertain herself. She has to start dishing. Get this. She's decided she's going to tell the secrets of my books. Oh, and then, she's got the nerve to take all the credit!
Do you believe it?
I'm thinking of putting her in time-out, but I'm sure she'd get into a snit and when I need her, she'll be conveniently absent. Or maybe she'll lead me down a rabbit-trail of a plot idea just to get back at me.
Calliope here: Be careful there, my friend. Remember, I was the one who gave you transplanted memory as a plot idea?
Actually, that was The Learning Channel before they forgot the "learning" part and decided that Honey Boo-boo was compelling television. Now, would you please get out of my blog? I gave you your own page.
To be honest, she's not so bad. She has come up with some good stuff...occasionally.
Want to rephrase that? How many times have you read something and asked yourself, "Did I write that?" That was me, babycakes!
Okay, you come up with good stuff a lot.
She really has. And I do appreciate her input. After all, Calliope was the one who informed me that fairies aren't two inches tall. And that a beer commercial could be a jumping off point for a romance novel. I'm sure she'll tell you all about that sometime.
Oh, I forgot about that one. Let me make a note...
What would we writers do without our muses? Space on my webpage is a small price to pay for all Calliope has done for me. I'm starting to look forward to her next installment at Calliope Tells All.
You're welcome. Now, shall we get back to work on that western space opera?