Sometimes it helps to picture the muse. That’s the creative side of the brain, the part that plays when I write.
Most of the time when I see discussions about the muse, it’s either treated like fairy dust or a stern school teacher. I was thinking about what it looked like after reading an article on Novel Writing Help:
The muse sulks when he doesn’t get his own way and sometimes throws things across the room in a temper. The critic sighs, shakes his head, and fetches the dustpan.
In one of the many online workshops on writing that I took, one of them had a lesson that asked me to come up with what my muse looked like. The first image I had was a Golden Retriever:
It’s not hard to see that happy dogs like exploring the world. Mention walk (or in my case, if I bumped the leash hanging on the all), and it’s time for a dog party. Yet, any inking that a vet is in the future and that same dog puts down her front feet and will. Not. Go.
That’s the muse, all wrapped into one package.
What does yours look like?