I’m a heathen. I freely admit that. So when I say I murdered Seamus, my muse, and chucked his body behind the dumpster of my local Kroger grocery store, you’ll understand that I never felt any remorse.
Yeah, the cops were surprised too.
But let me tell you, killing that sucker was liberating.
I’m always amused at how some writers stroke their muses, build altars to them, cherishing them as if that magical muse-alicious essence controlled the fate of the next great RITA winner.
I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume your muse is better behaved than mine was. Sure, Seamus was useful when he wanted to help me. The guy was gorgeous, taunting me with that swishing kilt, whispering sweet promises of inspiration. And when he didn’t deliver, he’d blame me for not listening properly.
I’ve tossed out boyfriends for less cheek, so why was I going to take this from him?
One day, as I waited for Seamus to show up (yes, he’s deserted me a few times), I realized if I was going to get anywhere I’d have to do it on my own. I couldn’t wait for him to bring me inspiration, so I sat at that keyboard and lined up my characters in a row.
“You, hero! State your purpose.”
“You, klutzy alpha heroine! Why are you giving in so easily to Smiley over there?”
This interrogation went on and on until I worked out all the kinks. Within a couple of hours I had a perfectly credible scene with no saggy middles and a crackling good segue to the next chapter.
Guess what? That wasn’t so hard.
I discovered that inspiration comes from within and I didn’t need a crutch (even a handsome one) to hang all my hopes.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, knowing I had delivered a kick-ass turning point in the story, all without the help of Seamus.
And then here he comes, all six foot six, two-hundred and thirty pounds of him, swaggering to the lilt of his own tenor singing voice. “Maria,” he croons. “My spicy little Spanish flower.”
That’s when I decked him.
My heart lodged in my throat when I realized he wasn’t breathing. I poked his firm buttocks with my toe. He didn’t move a muscle.
Dead. Dead as last year’s Xbox.
I wish I could say it bothered me, but it didn’t. Seamus had helped me through some rough patches, especially in the beginning when I was just starting out, but lately he had been wearing out his welcome.
Countless times, he had come home drunk, tired, or ill-tempered. Deep down, I knew he was seeing another writer. Maybe he was giving her all his good stuff. All I knew was I wasn’t getting any. And you know how well that goes over.
So I dragged him behind the dumpster and left him there. I would have gotten away too if I hadn’t lingered, mesmerized by his beefy bare ass in the moonlight.
That’s when the cops arrived. They were ready to haul me away when they heard a groan coming from behind the dumpster.
I should have known. You can’t kill a muse.
At least he didn’t hold a grudge. The last I saw of Seamus, he was walking hand in hand with a perky little crime photographer.
***
Fast forward six months. In this morning’s paper there’s a picture of that cute photographer beaming in front of a packed auditorium. Seamus is in the background grinning like a love-sick hyena. Apparently, she’d won a Pulitzer.
Damn muse.
***
And now I gotta know. Where do you think your muse hangs out when he’s not helping you?
***
Even without his help, I wrote TOUCH OF FIRE, a futuristic fantasy set on an Earth that knows only magic.
When an ancient book surfaces, Leda, a fire Elemental is charged with bringing it back to her clan. Instead she finds Greyhawke Tams, an ex-soldier and scavenger who’ll do anything to keep her from reaching her goal.
He’s a scoundrel and a thief. She’s a woman on a mission. They’ll make the perfect team if they don’t kill each other first.
TOUCH OF FIRE hits bookstores today! Please buy it so I can prove to Seamus I didn’t need him after all.
Find it at:
Amazon
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My Bookstore and MoreRead an excerpt at Samhain Publishing
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Marisa
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 6:12 am:
Hi Maria! I’ve got to say I LMAO reading this blog and now I’m so intrigued I’m heading over to get a copy of Touch of Fire.
Unfortunately I have more than one muse. I have several, and they can be as unruly as a bunch of teenagers hanging out at the 7Eleven. They spend more time with each other than with me. Most of the time when I call upon them they’re off to Cancun or the South of France. They are forever in need of a little ‘down’ time, which leaves me high and dry. So after reading how you handled Seamus, I’m thinking it might not be such a bad idea to send them on a permanent vacation.
Stacy ~
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 6:28 am:
Wow, I guess I should feel your pain, but poor Seamus. He was only trying to help *g* Glad to hear he survived his near murder. Wth an ass like that, he deserves to live, and we deserve to see it.
Good luck with your story. It sounds like fun. Do you find it difficult to write credible world-building, or is that the easy part?
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 8:54 am:
Hi Marisa, and thanks!
I’ve always had a suspicion that muses have muse-only clubs and muse pubs. And why not muse cruises too? (the south of France sounds good to me) How come they never think we might like to go too?
Da bums!
I’ll admit Seamus taught me one thing. Self-reliance.
But would it have killed him to help out a little? (okay, it almost killed him but that’s besides the point.)
Thanks for letting me hang at your place for the day!
Maria Lokken
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 8:56 am:
Hi Maria – Welcome to RNTV. Your writing is drop dead funny – great sense of humor.
My muses come in the oddest forms, shapes and colors. Sometimes my muse is a twizzler – I can get very creative when eating preservative laden, sugar filled, artificially flavored candy sticks.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 9:02 am:
Hi Stacy!
Yeah well. He’s drinking champaign with ‘Miss Perky’ and I’m swigging Coke Zero. Where’s the justice?
Ref: world building
World building is actually the easy part for me. It helps that I have a techy husband (also with a nice rear view). I often bounce ideas to him and we’ll argue…er…discuss why or why not something will work.
Thanks for stopping in!
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 9:05 am:
Maria! I think I hear an echo in here. LOL.
Thank you for letting me come over. I wasn’t sure I’d be worthy seeing as how I was muse-less.
I LOVE your muse twizzler! So low maintenance and the evidence is gone in just a few bites.
Note to self: Need more sugar.
Sandra Almazan
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 12:22 pm:
Great post, Maria! It just goes to prove you have to look for inner beauty, not outer.
As I’ve said on my blog, my muse is John Lennon. He’s lazy, and he just likes to watch the wheels. That’s why he’s delegating more and more of the inspiration stuff to my characters, especially the one originally inspired by him.
Joanie
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 1:00 pm:
Hey Maria, I couldn’t help but respond to this post. You are seriously funny. I can’t stop laughing. I went over and read an excerpt of your book and hit BUY. I’m looking forward to reading it.
I don’t have a muse. I’m left all by my lonesome to face any creative challenge that comes along. Perhaps you could recommend some one?
Jessa Slade
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 1:53 pm:
Hilarious! I anticipate a rash of copycat killings. Or maybe we needn’t be so harsh. “I’m sorry to let you go, Muse, but as you know, times are tough. The cost of adjectives has gone way up, and we here at Write-Now-Damnit are write-sizing. We wish you the best of luck keeping some other poor writer waiting.”
Maria Lokken
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 2:33 pm:
Jessa – there’s an idea copycat killings of muses… Hah! Oh, but then I’ve have to go without twizzlers…
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 2:53 pm:
Hiya Sandra!
John Lennon may be lazy, but he kinda did all right for himself, so I wouldn’t cut him loose. Thanks for popping in.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 2:56 pm:
Thanks Joanie! Hope you enjoy the novel.
Don’t fret about being muse-less. Believe me they’re not all what they’re cracked up to be. –unless they’re twizzlers. Sugar is our friend.
In this day and age, writers are never alone. Stop by my blog and visit any time.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 3:05 pm:
Jessa/Maria: You really can’t kill a muse, but in Maria L’s case, you can eat the evidence. (I like that. No mess. No incriminating evidence.)
But downsizing, yes. These are tough times and those adjectives don’t pay for themselves. LOL! (I’ll have to remember that one.)
You guys are a fun bunch!
Gannon
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 3:33 pm:
OMG, what a hilarious post, Maria! I’m pretty sure I would have offed Seamus too, hot body not withstanding.
If I have a muse, he or she hasn’t shown up yet, so I have to do all of the dirty work myself. Oh well, at least I don’t have to worry about hiding a body later. LOL
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 6:14 pm:
Thanks, Gannon!
My motto is: it’s better to laugh at misfortune than cry over a drunken muse.
Anna
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 8:51 pm:
That’s the funniest thing I’ve read in a while.
I was just discussing where muses hang out.
I just ran into one…William Shatner pre 1970.
The bullet with that muses name on it is William Shatner post 1980’s.
I will definately check out your novel.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 9:05 pm:
Hi Anna!
Oh noes! William Shatner! I can definitely see him as muse material. But that one will need a leash. –a short leash.
So nice to meet you, Anna!
Caffey
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 10:50 pm:
Hey Maria! So been good chatting with you about this book!
And wow how this all turned out for her! I really don’t know how any of you authors do it!
I so can’t write at all! Just a grocery list! I leave that all to you! Hugs.
Laura
on Apr 28th, 2009
@ 11:28 pm:
Webster’s definition of a muse: 1. any of the nine goddesses who preside over literature and the arts of sciences. 2. the spirit regarded as inspiring a poet. First of all William Shatner? Hee Hee Hee. Second, of course it would be a goddess, so fitting.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 29th, 2009
@ 7:54 am:
Ditto Caffey! So glad we met.
Maria Zannini
on Apr 29th, 2009
@ 7:59 am:
Hi Laura!
Ref: 1. …any of the nine goddesses
Considering how many authors I know have male muses it only proves Webster was wrong. lol
I take my muses where I can get them. I ain’t picky. And those twizzlers are starting to look good about now.
)