What does my muse look like? A lot like me, but much younger; late twenties, perhaps early thirties. She’s tall and lean with long flowing dark hair that is crazy-wild. Her eyes are full of fire and attitude. You wouldn’t mess with this girl. But who IS she exactly?
Sometimes, she’s right there on my shoulder, whispering delightfully witty prose into my ear. Other times, she’s stomping around the room, steam coming from her ears as she rants and raves about the injustices in her life. She can weep like a little girl with her first crush or spew sensual lines of love.
My muse also has an “I don’t give a sh*t” attitude sometimes. At these times, what ends up on the screen is not worth the effort it took to type it.
There are times when my muse is exhausting. Tap, tap, tapping at the keys, furiously trying…
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