My muse has disappeared, just up and exited the building, leaving no trace of his whereabouts. I should have seen it coming. Already, there have been one hundred prayers sent up to heaven, tying to get divine intervention to get him to behave. Adam is his name, and he’s putting me to shame.
Is it quite unthinkable for a creator to lose his OWN creation! I may not be the Almighty, but with His own permission and gracious gift of imagination, I was able to conceive of that ungrateful being, which quite befittingly, I named Adam. He has just lived up to his reputation.
I am in an embarrassing situation, not to forget the confusion and emotional distress that comes from being stabbed in the back by someone who owes his entire existence to my genius and benignly indulgent nature.
Finding a replacement is too daunting a task, I just don’t know where to begin. He’s been a faithful muse, my Adam. He served me well… (then again, maybe not so well or I would have won a Pulitzer by now). Anyway, we had kinda gotten used to each others’ shortcomings.
So I will give him another chance. Please read this advertisement, and if you see him, send Adam back home to his mistress.
TWO WEEKS LATER…
Since I put out an ad, requesting readers to send Adam back to me, I have been waiting anxiously, biting my nails and jumping in anticipation every time someone has knocked on my door. It is with extreme sadness that I must start admitting to myself that he just doesn’t care for me anymore. My muse has refused to come home.
I must now seriously contemplate a life without him. Writing without him may be hard at first, but believe me, I will MOVE ON! His head may be swollen by pride and vanity right now, but just as I made him, so can I unmake him. I just want to remind him of the popular saying, “pride comes before a fall.”
Adam, if you are reading this, you ingrate, I would like you to know, you are going down. Another muse is on the way, and when he gets here, you’ll be history.
Okay, now that the threat is out, let me address myself to other writers, who like me, have lost control of their muse. Here are three suggestions that might make the transition much easier.
Get your heart broken: Fall deeply in love, then mess it up and get your heart broken. Next, change the names of all the characters and write your story. Make yourself up to be an angel and turn everyone else into odd people who for whatever reason, stand in the way of true love. Finally, imagine what your next relationship will be like, and make it your happy ending.
Commit a crime: But make sure you don’t get caught. I suppose the crime will have to be committed in your head. Take all the elements and make them into a crime thriller. If you are too good to commit an imaginary crime, then you have no business writing fiction. You have no imagination for it. Instead, just investigate a real life case and write an article for your local paper.
Do some charity work and win public recognition: This is especially for those whose style is more in the direction of self-help and inspiration. If you do something really nice, and people acknowledge you for it, you could turn it into a piece about reaching the positive that is within you. No need to borrow quotes from dead philosophers, just listen to what people will say when you do things for them, then embellish a little… make it lyrical and witty, and go on and on about how the universe gives back what you give out.
If this works, then there will be no need for the Adams of this world. We shall be free of the bonds that our muses use to blackmail us.
Adam, are you reading this?!