I have several muses, two of them – an artist’s wooden chicken, an iron crow, and some Zinnia caught the afternoon sun and seemed to be talking to me. As I cooled off from the brutal sun and heat, my muses stirred my spirits, and I came back to life, all full of myself.

I just wanted to take this photo. I think Froggy the Gremlin is my main muse now; he sits to the left of my computer and laughs at me, calling me names and riling me up. He’s a mighty wiseass muse; he stirs me up when I get dopey or drowsy.

He has no time for whining or complaints.

Writers and artists are superstitious since so much of their lives are beyond their control. To be a writer, you must close your eyes and jump into the pool.