Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Itch


There it is again.  That itch in the back of my head.  You know the spot, right?  Just a few inches above the neckline and a little behind the ear.  Does no good to scratch at it.  The itch is too deep to reach.

I steal a glance over my shoulder.  I know she’s nearby.  She always shows up right after the itching starts.  A little like someone always ends up knocking at Jed Clampett’s door right after the music in the walls stops playing.  She does love making an entrance.

Yes, she plants the seed and the itching starts.  And then I wait.  Not long.  Just long enough for the itch to mutate into a tingle.  The quick grow fertilizer she uses causes the tingle.  It’s her own proprietary formula, I’m sure.  Something like Miracle Grow for the imagination.

I can’t help but wonder what she planted.  A new story idea?  A character?  A scene?  She never plants an entire story.  It might be nothing more than a line of dialog causing that itch.  She’s funny that way, my muse.

I’ll sit and ponder, patiently waiting for her to do her thing.  I’ve learned not to rush her.  Mere moments will pass before I hear her disembodied giggle.  She’ll show herself then, maybe with a wink, perhaps a wry grin, but always with contagious excitement dancing on her face.  She’ll nibble on her lower lip and bounce those pretty brows.  That’s her way of telling me it’s time to scratch and discover what’s sprouting from that itchy spot in the back of my head.

She's so awesome, that muse of mine.

How do you know when your muse is near?

20 comments:

  1. "Miracle Grow for the imagination." Hah, love it! My own muse must have some on hand, since I never fail to get bombarded with new book ideas, like, all the time.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Getting bombarded with new ideas is a great problem to have! Mine seem to come in the "feast or famine" mode, but I take what she offers.

      Delete
  2. You are SO creative, I love this post! My muse isn't so kind and gentle. He just slams into my brain and makes me stop everything so I can write things down before he leaves - usually equally as quickly as he arrived!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for the compliment, Kyra! Yes, these muses can be stingier with their time than doctors. But, I guess since they don't charge us by the hour the least we can do is accommodate them. :)

      Delete
  3. My muse and I are practicing AAA wrestling lately. That's Mexican wrestling of course. I think he's on the Tough team and I'm with the Technicians. Mask vs hair without time limit. Deathly locks and leaps from the third rope allowed. There was a time when a cup of coffee would do to discuss things. I wonder when that changed...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOL. I think my wife might get a little miffed with me if I started wrestling with my muse. She already gives me some strange looks when she knows Miss Muse is talking to me. I'd best not give her any more cause to doubt my sanity.

      Delete
  4. Love the metaphor, or is it a simile?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, Richard, if I tried to answer that question then my English professor from years ago would find this post and beat me over the head with one of my old grammar textbooks for answering incorrectly. Therefore, I'll just say "Thanks! Glad you liked the post!" hehehe

      Delete
  5. When I get that feeling, it usually means my wife is watching me!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Can't help chuckling at that, Alex. There is a definite sensation, not easily described, that occurs when my wife is watching me without my knowledge. :::grinning:::

      Delete
  6. "A little like someone always ends up knocking at Jed Clampett’s door right after the music in the walls stops playing."

    Yep, that's exactly when I know my muse is calling too. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Howdy, Linda! I have to be careful with my references in these posts. I sometimes forget that most probably don't remember the Beverly Hillbillies and all the running jokes they had on the show. In fact, most of my visitors (like yourself, of course) probably weren't even born when the show was on the air!

      Delete
    2. "In fact, most of my visitors (like yourself, of course) probably weren't even born when the show was on the air!"

      Ha. Ha. Very funny. I'm only a couple of years behind you. Loved the Clampetts!

      Delete
    3. There were definitely some classics back in the day: I Love Lucy, Beverly Hillbillies, Honeymooners, Andy Griffith Show, and so many more. Family-friendly sitcoms with good stories, good writing and good acting week after week seem to be far fewer these days.

      Delete
  7. For some reason this made me think of that bott fly that burrows into the skull and lays eggs there. Maybe not a good thing if the muse is doing that...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That sounds a little disturbing, Charlie! I definitely didn't intend to send your mind in THAT direction. Planting seeds is one thing; laying eggs in the old noggin is quite another entirely. :)

      Delete
  8. Sometimes I wonder if I even have a muse. At least she never shows up when I need her.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sure you do. She just gets busy sometimes. Mine opened a hotline and likes to put me on hold. I wrote about it in the post I'm linking below in case you never read it.
      http://strandsofpattern.blogspot.com/2012/03/personal-muse-hotline.html

      Delete
  9. What an excellent post! My muse lives in my car, and she usually shows up when I'm on long stretches of highway. I love this because it gives me time to think, but I can't stand it because she talks really fast once she gets going. I can't write notes to myself when I'm driving down the road, obv, so I leave myself long, rambling voicemails.

    Or I tell Siri, and she reminds me later. ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh yes, I did a post a couple months back about my muse visiting me in the car while I'm driving. (My Muse Tried to Kill Me Today) Hasn't stopped her though. I'd be not at all surprised if she stuck her head out of the window and let her tongue flap in the wind like my basset hound does. :-)

      Glad you liked the post!

      Delete