East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai

Leave a comment

My Muse (5-minute writing improvisation)

So here we go again.
The Muse.
That aethereal spirit that comes to you and whispers in your ear what to write, as you bleed on the paper, fighting your demons, possibly in an all-nite bar, with jazz music in the background.
You need a muse to be a writer, they tell you.
No muse, you’re just a hack. Continue reading