The Muse Won’t Just Turn Up. She Will Arrive When She’s Invited.

I’m not sitting here hoping that the muse will strike. I know she will. I’ve invited her. And fortunately, she’s never late.

9:30pm every night. Clockwork.

Yes, the toys may be strewn everywhere, the dishes piled high and my desk should have a “hazardous” label attached. Not ideal when you have a guest arriving.

So, I could stow the toys away, clean the dishes and file my paperwork.

But then I would have missed her.

Now, trust me you don’t want to miss her. The muse is not one to be trifled with. Ignore the door one day and you may get away with it. Do it again and your daily dates are in serious jeopardy.

I don’t mess her around.

I don’t reason: “She loves company and will have plenty of other calls to make. I’ll just let her in on those days when the mood is right. You know, when I’m feeling it.”

She has been invited. 9:30pm. She will arrive. I don’t worry about that. I just do the work. She will strike.

True, some days – scrap that, most days - I’m really not in the mood for company. I’d rather she just went on her merry way, and I could get back to Netflix.

It’s also true that most days I can’t be bothered brushing my teeth. But my dentist doesn’t buy my “too tired, had a hard day” excuses either.

If I want to escape dentures I turn up. I brush my teeth.

If I want to have any chance of producing something of value. I turn up.

9:30pm every night. Clockwork.