The writing prompt was: Write about your Muse.
Cheers, Darling © 2018 R.D. Girvan
My muse has a great sense of humour. She is quick to laugh and giggle, and if your joke surprises her, she may even snort. She loves puns and verbal dueling, self-deprecating humour and wit both wry and dry.
She is stubborn, determined, goes over/under/through obstacles to get where she is going. Once she sets her teeth into something she will not relinquish it. She is sort of like a terrier, in those ways. Or a tank.
She is kind and loyal, sees the best in people and promptly forgets when others disappoint. She prefers to live and let live, but knows that one can’t always do that. She protects me, like a best friend, a big sister, a sphinx.
Vaguely British, she runs her hand through mostly silver hair, looks over her glasses at me and says things like, “To master anything, darling, one must do it for 10,000 hours. So let’s go!” She has a variety of surprisingly motivational sayings, most of which boil down to: don’t complain – don’t waste time – don’t give up.
She has her 10,000 hours already. She came to the writing life late in hers, but refuses to bemoan that. She is a fantastic writer. Something about her work makes it impossible to stop reading it. She loves to reveal unspeakable truths, by degrees. She writes clearly, honestly. Bravely.
She leads the way with hindsight’s 20/20 vision, towards my future – her past. She is shimmering her way into shining existence with every word I write, every story I finish, every hour I add towards my 10,000. My imaginings, my fictions, are turning her into non-fiction. Is that irony? She would know.
My muse and I are the same girl, separated by a few years, so of course, we share a birthday. Every December 31st I like to drink to her health. Cheers, darling!
R.D. Girvan 