For Sale… one muse. Best offer.
The advertisement in the window caught my attention as I procrastinated after shopping, knowing I should be home finishing my story if I were to meet the competition deadline, but filled with sabotaging self-doubt.
Perhaps I needed a new muse. My old one had served me well, providing excellent inspiration, but I feared he’d become stale and unfairly blamed him for my recent lacklustre performance. Another muse would be company for him, I justified.
The seller wasn’t encouraging. “I’ll take whatever you offer,” he said. “He’s a waste of space.”
“He doesn’t work?” I asked.
“Totally inefficient,” he grumbled, indicating enough rejection slips to cause the demise of an entire forest.
In a dark room he pointed into a cobweb-lined corner.
My heart went out to the shivering muse. I carefully picked him up before venting my anger at the not-so-gentle-man. “No wonder you have rejection slips. Look how you treat your muse. If you nurtured him, offered encouragement occasionally, he’d serve you well. You’re a disgrace to muse caretakers.”
He snatched my proffered coins and slammed the door.
“You’re safe,” I told the frightened bundle. My conscience suggested perhaps I’d also neglected my muse. Had I thanked him for ideas? Shared credit for my successes? I resolved to change my ways.
The muses became best friends. They brainstormed ideas, pitched them to me, and I duly thanked and praised them lavishly. My story was a winner; we celebrated in style.
The new muse flourished and is now confident and happy. Sadly, I know our time together is finite. No writer should have more than one muse; that would be greedy and unfair to the muses who revel in their own free spirit.
So, if you need a muse… call me. He’s free and doesn’t ask much, just respect and due praise for a job well done. And if, like me, you realise you’ve neglected your muse, beg his forgiveness and nurture him with care; they’re a forgiving breed and will serve you well if you treat them right.