Respecting the Muse

I've written elsewhere about the contentious relationship I have with my muse.  Frankly, she's . . . come closer, because I have to whisper this:  She's a moody bitch with a poor work ethic.  She prefers to inspire me two or three times a week, rather than daily, as I require.  But don't tell her I said that. 

Since I have deadlines that have to be met, we thrash it out on a regular basis.  But I may have found a way to make her happy.

This is a Fairy Door.  My daughter gave it to me, most likely for the benefit of her daughter who is still too young to understand the concept of fairies.  But I am playing along.  Since fairies are tiny, I decided it belonged near the floor, just above the baseboard, and since they're immaginary, I put it close to my writing desk, where the immaginary world intersects with reality.  At least, when my fussy muse is working, it does.

Muses are fairy-like, in case you didn't know.  And  I think my little sprite must like having her own door to another world, because she's been hanging around more ever since I put it up.  She hasn't been grouchy, either.  (If you see her, just act like you didn't, because I don't want to mess with this delicate balance.)

I hope this bodes well for my next book.