I have always liked to believe that I have a Muse. I like to think that without my Muse I could have never achieved the talent (more or less) that I have in writing. As well, I like to personify my Muse, relating my ability or inability to write anything at the moment with her whim. 1
Now about my muse, she works in rather mysterious ways. It seems as if she makes me want to write, but when I sit down to do it, I end up without ideas. I am not sure if this is her sick idea of torture, or if she has some reason behind it, although I hope for the latter. My Muse seems to find the most inconvenient times to help me along, although any help I get is greatly apperciated. I have to hope that she is just trying to be helpful, but I'm not sure.2
As a last note, I hope that my Muse is not angered with me, since I seem to take rather extended breaks from writing, but as an address to that, if it is the case; it won't do much good to hinder me in writing if getting me to write is your goal, but to each his own. 3
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