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About the Muse
The Fuzzy Pink Muse
Like most writers, the muse comes to me in mysterious ways. Sometimes, she stands on my shoulder and screams in my ear until I give her my undivided attention and let her words guide my fingers across the keyboard. A story or poem is born.
Then there are the times she seems to hover over me like a fuzzy pink cloud. I might be occupied with events that are going on in my life or just tired from a difficult day. My mind is blocked. There is no communication between us. I have to ride it out and wait until she finally gets through to me.
Writers live for the moments when that fuzzy pink cloud dissolves and the clarity of the story comes to life.