The muse. You know what I mean. That elusive creature that decides to haunt you in the car, the shower/bathtub, the jogging route, the line at the grocery store - wherever she darn well pleases. We love these moments, don't we? When we know what we're about to write. How it will end. How to get it there. Oh, muse, how I love thee.
Other times, not so much. Like this weekend. I set aside a few hours to write and, um, I've got nothing. It doesn't help that I don't have my Christmas tree up yet, we had a 3-hour program practice for Sunday School this morning, the church program is tomorrow (today, for you all) and the Sunday School teachers (including me) are hosting coffee hour afterwards - which reminds me I need to bake tonight.
The laundry, the dishes, and the dust bunnies are starting to stare at me with funny looks in their eyes. My Facebook friends are luring me into their lives with their funny status updates. Other bloggers are posting really interesting things for me to read. My pile of library books is almost due and I'd hate to take them back without cracking their dear little spines. I haven't emailed christy for over an hour and she might be worried about me. One son wants to play Scrabble and the other one wants to play Candyland.
My muse is scared of all of these things and has gone into hiding.
come out, come out, wherever you are!
I know you guys are busy, too. Any tips for getting my
polar bear muse to come back to me when I actually have a few minutes to spare??