I’ve been writing pretty much non-stop since I was nine or ten, and I have to attribute this to something other than my great genius.  I am not generally superstitious, but I do get weird about muses.

I believe in them. I believe something in the world holds spirits that can motivate and inspire a writer. I still have every muse I’ve ever had; some are in the attic.

To be clear, a muse is someone or something that inspires a person to focus and do creative work. Men have historically used the term to describe the women that they have been in love with and made the subject of their work.

It seems somewhat sexist now, and I’ve never seen women in that way.

Times change. I’ve been in love with Maria for years, and she often inspires me, but she is not the subject of my work and the sole inspiration for it. Women do not exist to inspire my writing; they play a more significant role in my life.

I’m not sure where this muse addiction comes from, but I tend to put a lot of faith in objects and spirits that call out to me. They all seem somewhat alive.

When I am stuck, I look at them, and they unstick me.

Several of them are to the right of my computer now, some to my left.

One is a paper mache chicken Maria bought me in Bellows Falls, Vt, just last year. He speaks to the ridiculousness of life.

Another is a green pot filled with flowers from our garden – color and light.

Yet another is the crow positioned in the window; crows are smart and savvy,  he often scolds me to move. A fourth is my beautiful and ancient statute head; I don’t know who she he is or what she represents.

She exudes gravitas and inspiration; she has powers.

Recently, I added a Robo-light I found online. He reminds me of innovation and invention.

Froggy, the Magic Gremlin, is on the other side, so is a concrete swan and a statue of Mother Mary. Froggy represents many things to me; he is a smart-ass, defiant of authority, and capable of disappearing at will. He was a childhood TV star of mine.

In short, my desk is ringed with muses. You can’t be too sure. I wouldn’t describe myself as superstitious, but these are my peeps; they watch my back.