I’M OFF TO CATCH THAT MUSE!

Tomorrow, I’m going to Malindi. I’ll laze around, have a nice time by the beach and swim in the sea. My muse will act up, and when I get back, I’ll have plenty of interesting stuff to write up on. In fact, I’ll probably have to take a paper napkin with me, in case it’s the big one. You know, the BIG ONE. Like a book. Like Harry Potter. Only, instead of the small, noisy café with the small baby, I’ll be out by myself in the open, with the sound of the waves in my ears and the feel of the soft, silver sand between my toes. Great incentive to be lazy, but greater incentive to feel inspired by all this bounty. When the doors to the mind open, I’ll be there, with my pen in my hand, and the paper napkin on the sand.

On the other hand, maybe my muse will decide to play cat and mouse, the way it often does at night. I’ll be thinking of a great idea for a story, but when I pick up the pen, the story’s gone; vanished on wings of silvery moonlight. Once lost, it hardly ever comes back. But when it does, I’m in the shower. In these dire straits where the want of a pen is mightier than the need to feel clean, I opt, of course, for the pen. This has led to some encounters I’d rather not write about; suffice it to say; slipping on wet tiles is a pretty good start. My muse laughs.

When in adverse conditions, the muse wakes up and decides to lend a helping hand, as is proved by J. K. Rowling. Unfortunately for most writers, in cases of hardship, the muse decides to abandon them all together. They must then make their living without it. And so something called the Writers Block is born. To get rid of it, one must persuade their muse to return; bribe it, threaten it, grab it; but return it must.

And others just try to get it back by loving it. Hence this trip to Malindi. Enter the sea and the surf. Wish me luck.