Some guys have all the luck.
They write, and have a muse.
And I don’t mean a girl they fancy, and they are trying to impress with their writing – no, I mean they actually have this spirit that gives them Inspiration.

Isn’t that great – some of us have only perspiration to fuel our writing.

The way these artsy guys talk about it, their Muse is something out of an Alfons Mucha print – rosy-cheeked and classy, wrapped in a simple dress, golden hair piled-up in some kind of Edwardian do, barely treading ground, bathed in soft light, spring breeze caressing her.

The Muse suggests these guys their lofty stories – not narrative but Literature, not entertainment but Art.
She gives them her support in homeopathic doses, doling out one painful sentence per day, so that they don’t write much, usually taking months for a short story.

Then you go and read these guys’ blurbs, and synopses, and they leave you aghast. Continue reading →