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Saturday, 18 June 2011

Meet the Muse Collaboration (Part 3)

(shoutout @ DeviantArt)

So it’s time for the LAST instalment of Meet the Muse collaboration. To be honest, I would like to read and put up LOTS more muse-bits but I think it’s time to let go. *cries*

I’d just like to thank again everyone who participated and tell you guys that you are all my muses. And the best part about showcasing your bits on my blog (no dirty pun intended) is that they’ll always be on here, inspiring me whenever I hit the brick wall of death called Writer’s Block.

If these inspired YOU as well, make sure you let them lovely writers know. ^__^


Hello, my name is AJ and I'm a muse-aholic. I have been clean for approximately eight sec--aw crud. See what you did? You asked and he's back!

Cedric: my muse, my ego, my internal editor, the imp on my shoulder, the gossamer-fine voice I pretend is a mild case of tinnitus. Sometimes, he's omnipresent, driving me to distraction. Other times he's coy, and I lure him out with an envelope marked "explicit photos--PRIVATE!"

Cedric's an ill-tempered crosspatch of a man who steps on my soul.

I used to think I couldn't write without him, that the presence of the muse was critical. Now I know that's a load of horse puckey; I start without him. If he does show, I've learned to ask him the right questions. Cedric always has an answer. If I ask, "Why can't I finish this?" Cedric is quick to supply, "Because you're not good enough." Then he'll scuttle behind my ear where I can't slap him without looking like a dog scratching fleas. Instead, I get specific with him: "How do we get this story back on track, knucklehead?"  

And Cedric dutifully replies, "Zombie labradoodle."

--A.J. Aalto (@AJAalto) is a versatile writer and knows good humor, dousing it by the buckets on her blog. Once you go AJ, you never go back!


My muse doesn’t have a real name. I just call her that bitch! And let me tell you why. For the most part, she’s a real pain in my behind. She likes to mess with me by being elusive and stubborn, AND she likes to give me just enough to keep me coming back—just like a crack dealer. It’s a friend/foe type of relationship we have going.  I’ve come to realize that it’s just the way it is. Sometimes she’s super giving and I think we’re hitting it off like friends should—connecting through the creative process. Then , BAM, she takes it all away, turns her back and acts like the snobby girl at school  who told you she’d be your best friend if you give her your favorite bracelet but then once you do refuses to acknowledge you even exist.  Stupid muse! I wonder if there is a return policy or an exchange system. Anyone have a slightly better muse they’d like to trade for mine? She’s really not as bad as I make her out to be. I’ll even toss in some virtual cookies to sweeten the deal. Just don’t tell her I’m exchanging her.  Just in case I have to keep her and she holds all this against me.

--Angela Scott (@whimsywriting) is one of them literary Hook’ers. She’s also a very ingenious writer and blogger, so you’re advised to check her out.


My muse is a night owl. She likes to play hide and seek during the day, sneaking up on me to leave random thoughts and then rushing off again.

But she never fails me at night. I brush my teeth, set my alarm, and snuggle into bed. Just as my body begins to relax, she jumps into my brain with a shout and throws confetti.

The ideas start zipping through my mind so fast I can barely keep up: a blog post, a new plot idea, the perfect fix for the scene that’s just not quite right. I keep a mental list of her rambling so I can write everything down tomorrow, but she’ll have none of that.  She carries on until I sit up and turn on the light.

As I jot ideas down in my worn out notebook, she dances a jig and sings a happy tune. Only when I get everything written down just as my muse wants does she shut up and allow me to sleep.

My muse is the black sheep of the family, brazenly plowing her own way. And even though she frustrates me to no end, I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

--Stacy Green (@stacygreen26) is currently working on a suspense thriller. Not many women dare to go there, so she deserves a big HURRAH!


I named her Ren. When we were young she was a brown flitting bird who perched on my shoulder. As we grew older, she became a woman whose hair grew as dark as her moods.

Ren covers her thin frame in diaphanous robes. They cascade off her shoulders and breasts, pert nipples always standing out and grazing over my excited flesh. Black hair hangs low and straight, making the porcelain flesh of her face glow as if luminescent. Full lips tilt upwards in a lascivious grin when I please her, dark eyes shining with unfulfilled promises. She savors my pain as I bleed my secrets onto the page. Ren’s flesh is covered with it, the crimson drying to leave its lustful stain upon her. Blood dries dark as her soul.

As I write Ren stands behind me, delicate fingers perched on my shoulders, nails digging as talons into the flesh and muscle. She whispers things into my heart, hate filled promises that set my crotch on fire.

Ren loves me, and I love her.

--Chris Jensen (@hororwritindad) writes erotica, among other things. You can check his blog out ONLY if you’re an adult. (Hey! Don't you dare click that!)  


My muse isn’t a mythical, elusive creature who lurks in my mind. No, my muse is a person. Have you ever had a friend who was so in tune with your thoughts that you never have to explain what you’re thinking because they’ve already jumped to the same conclusion? That’s Alison for me.

Whenever I have a Big Idea and share it with her I can count on her to nod enthusiastically and exclaim, “I know EXACTLY what you mean!” Then she adds her input and suddenly my Big Idea has become more fantastic than I can bear.

With Alison everything becomes an adventure. We’ve been separated by half a country for the past five years, but soon I’ll be moving back and I’m looking forward to it as much for the inspiration she gives me as to be reunited with an old friend. I’ve never met a person with energy that compliments my own so well. I consider her to be my soulmate.

--Wren Emerson (@wrenem) has self-published her book ‘I Wish’, which I am currently reading. She is also one of them friendly #pubwrite tweeps.


Imranuendo – also known as the Monkey, has a tendency to accumulate a zillion ideas that all sound good with a zany contrast to the norm in how he tackles them. Never leaving a job undone, he demands composure and systematic processes that eventually do lead to the holy grail of completion. Not one to miss an opportunity, he will express wit that is rarely intended to offend and will put his tasks on hold to cheer up another. Like many, or maybe just himself, he prefers sounds that he is responsible for and struggles to work when others are rickety-racketing around him. He’ll hold your hand when you need him, even when you scorn him, but will leave you when you’re done with him.

--Imran Siddiq (@flickimp) is a versatile artist and blogger. He’s also a very nice and talented friend.


Meet My Muse

Meet my muse, he's an enigmatic guy. He doesn't have a name, although if he did he probably wouldn’t tell me. He likes to maintain an air of mystery, and he’s evasive. I don't find him, he finds me.

He’s also a bit of a flake. He turns up unannounced, and stays until he gets bored (or a pretty blond strolls by). Sometimes he pays a fleeting visit, other times he’ll stay for weeks. He never overstays his welcome.

But his timing sucks. He’ll appear in the middle of a meeting, halfway through a movie, or at 2am when I really just need to sleep. Recently we had a falling out. Creative differences if you will. I miss him.

If you see him, let me know. We’ve got a book to finish.

--Jemma Davidson (@JemmaDavidson) is a YA writer and professional scientist. Wait, wasn’t this the best recipe for science-fiction?


Inspiration, for me, has never been found in the pure and beautiful. I cannot translate these concepts into words or, perhaps, there is little to be said of clean snow or fields of white daisies. However, I have a fountain of dark ideas and twisted realities that easily blackens the page. The concepts often take form as my characters’ evil deeds and actions. Yet, these portrayals may fail to betray my true motivation. As I observe others, I see the development of wickedness that forms in the mind. Caused by a combination of environmental factors, these evil results in people filled with cognitions of hatred and foolishness, hypocrisy and idiocy and, perhaps most of all, madness. Created by society’s ills, it is society’s lunatics that have led me to write. From my perspective, they strongly hold the majority. As I continue to observe and consider, I will continue to be disgusted by the modern world we share. It is this disgust, this depression, this utter malcontendedness that daily pushes my mind into darkness and my pen to paper.

--Alex Megas (@considerprickly) posts bits of fiction and poetry on his blog. He’s very talented and straightforward. I commend him for that.


The Unknown Muse

I heard a name but no one was there. Throughout the day, it haunted my thoughts and like a tattoo it wrote itself in my mind. In my sleep, I tossed and turned, but I couldn't shake it. In my dreams, it showed me the way. From it, I learned that dreams were not only for sleeping. A world beyond my sight awaited me.

My mind could see what my eyes did not. My ideas visualized before me, as if watching a movie. I saw the entire structure of my new world and its people. I felt the breeze bring the smell of salt water. The ocean crashed its waves on the rocks of my neglect. The pain of loneliness was well spent. The cries of my anger echoed in my room vibrating against the walls. My heart began to beat to the rhythm of this new pulse. Sound attacked my ears until music materialized.

Like the wind, he quietly comes in with serene comfort, at times with turbulent fright. Sometimes he goes away. I don't know where. But eventually he comes back again. When we're tired, we rest and discuss new ideas. His name? That he won't mention.

--Orlando Ramos  (@O_about_that) is working on a killer science fiction book right now. Check out his blog for details. He’s also a good friend.



Alex Megas said...

Heh...I didn't even use the word muse in mine. I guess I expressed the sentiment but never got around to tying it to the idea of a muse. So...."MUSE". There ya go :D

Glad I got stuck under the DBZ image. Brings back my younger, slightly nerdier days.

Thanks again for posting these Lyn. Great idea!

Lyn Midnight said...

Haha, I didn't even notice, the sentiment is what matters. And thank YOU for participating, Alex! ^_^

Mark Evans said...

A thoroughly enjoyable and eye-opening trilogy of posts, with writing that makes you all warm inside.

I can relate to a lot of these, and it's funny how we seem to have a love/hate relationship with the one thing that makes us all write the different things we do.

Kudos for a good idea and a job well done, and respect to all the contributors. And next time your muse shows up, say a quick thank-you :-)

Lili Tufel said...

Very cool blog and a truly awesome post!

Lyn Midnight said...

@Mark Thank you for reading all of it! O_o Yeap, it is funny especially since I LOVE my own muse. Dunno what these guys are talking about. :P

@Lili Thank you, thank you! ^_^