Honorable Members of the Jury: Besides writing, I also paint and sculpt in clay and paper maché. The muse who assists me with this type of art still keeps her sweet, ethereal and Greek appearance. I am respectful and reverent to the Paint and Sculpting Muse and abide her bidding without protest. She bathes me in her light of creativeness and she makes me believe Leonardo daVinci and Michael Angelo live inside me. (No, I didn't eat them.) In any case, this muse does feed my dragon size ego and ensures an obedient devoted follower...and also ensures a perfect hairdo, spotless white tunic and complete nails.
My writing muse is a ninja. (Notice I said ninja, not Captain Ninja). It was not always so. At the beginning of our relationship she was all sweet, ethereal and Greek, like her other sister. Our relationship suffered a metamorphosis in the last six months. She became bossy and demanding. Dragons can be sweet talked into doing something but you better watch your tone or you may end all crispy without warning. But I did warn her not to try my patience. I told her I needed her to let me write at my own pace. I also told her to give me time to do the research needed to carry out her plans. But noooo, she had to keep talking and ordering me around and complaining like a rattling sour wife.
"I told you to do this eons ago! Why don't you listen to me? Can't you keep anything in that little head of yours for more than five seconds? I'm the expert here, I told you to weld it and you're using Duct Tape, instead! What's all that fire for then?"
"I'll show you what it is for", I said. And that was the beginning of the end. We have not been able to hold a polite conversation ever since. In exchange for the Stressed Dragons Membership she got me, I got her a Loyalty Card at the Muses and other Mythical Beings Hospital. I have smoked her, tanned her and gave her an Afro hairdo.
My last offense, sitting on her in order to get some peace of mind, made her take drastic measures to deal with me. Each time she enters the Dragon Cave, she comes ready for relentless Full Contact combat. I wonder if there is some sort of Muse Federation she went to learn those moves and locks.
I shouldn't be surprised. The muse of a stubborn, cranky, fire dragon with authority issues should have some risks in the profile. We are both at fault here. I only wish somebody would tell her we would be more productive if she would let me do things my way. I don't like being told what to do, when to do it and above all, I don't appreciate her looking over my shoulder, breathing down my neck and nagging me at each single step.
Did I say something when she bombarded me with ideas while in my dragon shower? No. Did I swat her like a mosquito when she urged me to step down the treadmill in order to write that "bright" scene she has? No. But she has made a sport of interrupting me in the most untimely moments. I was supposed to fix Christmas feast yesterday. It's not an easy thing to cook dwarf food, dragon food and human food at the same time. It was a miracle the cave kitchen didn't blow up, I swear. The Muse sneaked in with all answers I've been asking for the last two months!
"Why here, why now?" The pots with the soy milk were making an odd noise.
"It's my Christmas present to you. Here it is finally the perfect solution for the end of Agnipath. It is wrong for me to say but it is brilliant. You'll leave them breathless."
"Them who? I said I would only write for me and my belly button for now." The milk pot became an erupting volcano. "Step out of my way!"
"If you don't write this critical death now, your dinosaur peanut size brain will forget it all in... 5, 4, 3..."
I scrambled for a piece of paper and a pen, jotted key words and checked on the vegetables that were about to become puddle.
"Now, for the the final confrontation between Aryan and Rohan..."
"This is it. I am not listening."
"Yes, you are. He will learn the truth about the fire that burned the house when...."
"The garlick. I need garlick and pepper, where is the pepper?"
"...and before he kills him, Rohan will tell him the truth behind his mother's death..."
"Lalalalalalala" Damn it, that's a good one.
So I turned around and....I got three more erupting volcanos, a disaster all over the floor, three dwarves bathed in beans and two beards ruined beyond repair (poor Sesin, son of Tasin and Milin, son of Carmelita).
Did I get an apology from the perpetrator muse? No! All I got is a blank mind after I spent the next 4 hours cleaning a mess while trying to get two dishes cooked. Honorable Jury of all Writers, I demand a compensation. I demand justice.... Ok, a mild revenge can also do. Do not hold me guilty of my future actions. If it is rough play what she wants, rough play she will have.
You do believe in temporary madness, don't you?