As readers of my newsletter know, Muse slipped into my head and took up residence while I was reading Paradise Lost at school and then refused to leave. At the time I took him at face value, but I’m pretty sure now he isn’t a real muse at all, because he’s male, steely-blue, wears a lot of leather, is winged, has talons and is devilishly handsome, if you like that kind of thing. Everyone else seems to have a fairly useful female Muse, but no – I have to be landed with a creature who needs to be arm-wrestled into submission every morning.
But then, that’s not such a bad thing, because there’s no point in wafting around looking soulful and waiting for the Muse of Inspiration to stop flitting round the room and land. No – get a firm grip and tell him or her to jolly well get on with it, and then soon the only thing flying will be your novel.
Novel Kicks is a blog for story tellers and book lovers.