Respecting the Muse

Two days ago I thought of a great blog topic while I was out walking. I’ll remember it, I told myself, making mental notes to help. That night as I lay in bed half asleep, another couple came to mind. Yesterday the same thing happened while I was out in the yard. Each time I promised I’d remember.

Here I sit, ready to write. Where are my ideas? I scratch my head. I yawn. I chuckle. That often loosens up stuck memories. I’ll get a cup of coffee, I think. But no, the coffee doesn’t help.

What happened? Where are my ideas?

How many times have I written, and told students, “Keep paper and pencil handy! When you have a story idea, write it down!”? I hang my head to hide the redness of my face. I’ve failed to take my own advice. I haven’t written my blog ideas down. They’re in there somewhere, lurking in the dark recesses. Maybe.

Or, maybe, because I failed to pay homage to my muse, she retracted the gifts. My muse, the one I share with lifestory writers everywhere, is a fickle muse, or maybe she just practices Tough Love. If I don’t accord her proper respect, with gratitude for her inspirations, she exacts a piece of memory to keep me in line.

Okay! I get it. My dear Muse and patient readers, I apologize. I’ll write things down! It isn’t age. This has always happened.

What will I write down? That idea about laughing. The one about walking in the rain, and about monumentally awesome summer evenings, and even the one about punctuating quotations… Oh! Hey! See? I apologized and promised to be respectful and she’s already back in service.

Now, I beg you, don’t subject yourself to the same stress of losing your story ideas that I’ve been suffering. Keep at least a scrap of paper and stub of a pencil handy, and write them down!

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal