The Muse Is a Two-Year-Old Who's Had Coffee

For a while, my muse was nowhere to be found. I have never had "writer's block." I know there are movies (like Adaptation) that hilariously depict writer's block, but in my life, that has never (knock wood) happened. Instead, I have had periods--this last one being only perhaps the third time in my life--in which the writing has felt listless. I didn't have the heart for it. I was weary in my personal life, and it drifted through to my writing life. It wasn't that I couldn't write, but my output slowed.

Then the muse returned--about three weeks ago, I guess. I was sleeping better. I felt a little better. Whatever "it" was, it lifted.

That was fine . . . the muse was back, I was writing and in the groove.

Then the muse started drinking coffee--pots of it. I don't know where she got her hands on the coffee, since I gave it up, but . . . she wasn't just here in my life, she was here and practically taking over. Thus I decided the muse was rather like my toddler, who at this moment is lying on the kitchen floor next to my office having a tantrum because I will not let him have a cookie at 7:00 a.m. The muse is like that.

What is this experience like? It's insanity . . . the muse wants to be fed--NOW. She wants me at this computer--NOW. And she wants me staying up late, and getting up early to tend to her needs--NOW.

I am glad she is back. I won't knock it. She came up with THE MOST SPECTACULAR concept last night. But man . . . it would be nice if she laid off the coffee and the sugar rush so life with her was a little more normal.

People who aren't writers ask me all the time what being a writer is like. "How do you come up with ideas?"

I can't always explain the process. But this post is pretty much what it's like.

I have a muse. Her name is Taz!