My muse is a draft horse unicorn and he is back. Stephen King’s is a cranky guy who smokes cigars in a corner of his office. I wanted to say that mine was like a centaur only because I took An Important Internet Quiz today on How Centaurs Should Wear Jeans. There were 4 choices; you can imagine. Then I thought, when writing comes to me, it floats down from the sky and lands on my right shoulder in a unicorny way but has a badassery to it; hence the draft horse.
My Grampa Pehr raised draft horses in Sweden a long time ago. I think about him a lot and hear him in my mind: “Don’ talk to yoursellf dat way. You looook nice. I loff you and Grrandpa Pehrrr is allwayss heeeere.” Maybe he’s my Guardian Angel. Maybe he’s part of my muse, giving me the courage to write the hard things that anyone else might be too scared to name.
I wanted to continue with 9th grade and I have a Shitty First Draft but that’s not what Muse wants. No, it will be about a Sears EZ-start push lawnmower I called “Green Bitch”.
“Will you ever write about saving money and stuff again?”
Of course. “Green Bitch” is a little about that.