Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Muse



The thing I enjoy the most about writing fiction is being visited by The Muse.

I meticulously set my story-line, getting my butt planted firmly in the chair, for a required five hours (so I can at least act professional). I’m following my story-line “just so”, struggling with dialogue that will make the plot move forward, and then it happens.  Instead of me writing the story I am a conduit for The Muse. 

My fingers strike the keyboard 
like lightening through the air.
I am no longer thinking, 
the words just magically appear. 
I simply record the conversations, 
From some unknown ethereal sphere. 
I am laughing, crying, fighting--
 because I am with them there. 
My adrenaline is pumping, 
because I just heard the sound, 
the bullet zipped right by me, 
and laid my hero on the ground.

Okay, so she's a Muse in Training.

4 comments:

  1. That's a fantastic, clever poem.
    My muse has let a few of my favorite characters die in Jairus' Daughters. It made me very sad and just like you I didn't see it coming even though I'm supposedly the person writing the story.

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  2. My Muse wrote the poem. Perhaps our Muses are sisters?

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  3. Great stuff Barb, I like your muse. :o)

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  4. Love This! Your muse might anger issues lol.

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