My muse is missing. For weeks, she hasn’t appeared when I sit at the keyboard, and she’s not in the house or yard. Filing a Missing Persons Report with the local police department isn’t possible because… well… she’s not a person.
How do I find my muse?
I could pretend I’m an amateur sleuth, put on my deerstalker cap, squint through my magnifying glass, and think deep thoughts. Unfortunately, those deep thoughts remind me that finding witnesses to her movements could be tough: she’s invisible. She doesn’t read or write—she expects me to do that part of our collaboration—so looking for half-burned letters, sinister emails, and coded files is futile.
Hmm. This leaves only one course of action. I must look for her in her best-loved spots: walking barefoot on the beach, hiking through forests, exploring new towns and villages, visiting friends, canoeing, birding, or reading. The list is long, but I’ll search for as many weeks as necessary. That means abandoning my blog and other responsibilities for, oh, maybe a month or more.
To those of you who have noticed that my muse’s cherished places to relax are at my favorite vacation sites, you’re absolutely right! But if that’s what it takes to find her, I’ll steel myself to take some vacation time.
Have a great July, and I’ll see you midway through August!
7 responses to “Finding My Muse”
Have fun finding your muse Mary!
Yes, taking time off is a good way to find your muse or (to put it more modernly) let subconscious processing run free. Of course, a found muse can be quite demanding:
~ *Stale Bread Can Wait*
~ ~ My muse is stingy (when implored)
~ ~ or really bitchy (when ignored).
~ ~ When I want to sing of croutons
~ ~ (but her fancy turns to plutons),
~ ~ I have just one way to go:
~ ~ with the mighty magma flow.
Funny! (Though I’ll admit, I had to look up “pluton.”) Your muse seems even more demanding than mine!
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