The view from here

Whoa! Ok! After meeting with Mister Bates, I've come to realize this interaction with the muse is not only fraught with pitfalls, but with heights that demand a great deal of competence as well.

The pitfalls are plenty. And equally part muse-induced and writer-induced. However, with regular and consistent practice such things as distractibility and mental fatigue can be eradicated. Writing employs the muscularity of the imagination, replicating the guidelines for a full body workout is sure to do for the imagination what the workout does for the body. Enlist the expertise of a competent coach, recruit a few equally enthusiastic buddies, eat lots of protein, and the writer has a winning formula. No need for a contract. Or so Mister Bates counseled.

Just do remember the part about resting in between.

I remain unconvinced. To reach the dizzying heights of literature, is more than a great sweaty workout, it's like attempting to climb Mt. Everest. Maybe I should aim for Mt. Whitney? Or, hey, Mt. Lukens or Mt. Wilson will do. Just writing this sentence makes me realize how much more realistic it is for me to literally attempt these climbs than to write beyond my current level of competence.

This is were my thoughts had stalled when the muse idea had slipped in. The writer-me was in need of an expert on inspiration.

I hadn't previously given much thought to establishing a connection with any particular muse because I didn't think I needed to. Muses are ancient, I reasoned, what can they possibly offer the modern writer? And, besides, there's at least nine to choose from. Additionally, a perfunctory reading of the functions over which they preside leaves one puzzled.

There is, for instance, one for each of the following: epic poetry, lyric poetry, love poetry, comedy/pastoral poetry, sacred poetry. There's a muse for history, tragedy, and astronomy. I would include their names but they are for the most part difficult to spell and pronounce, and eats up time with spell check. These nine muses were probably born to Zeus and Memory (English translation of Greek name), so unless the muses made love and bore children, which I understand is often the case, the original nine are unlikely to of any use to me.

It has become obvious, however, that one has little choice in the matter. If one just thinks 'muse' long enough, one is likely to get mused. Arbitrarily. Like winning a game of Bingo.

I do have one thing in my favor though. Considering the fact that muses live forever, and therefore do not have to propagate as often as humans to maintain their lineage, I decided it should be a simple matter to investigate the family tree of the somewhat more contemporary muse assigned to me, Lillian Eugenia, otherwise known as Lily Gene.

It turns out records of muse lineage are consistently unavailable since the time of the Greeks. I have had to resort to the use of my super powers - intuition and rationality. In other words, creative writing and research. After much deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that Lily Gene is indeed a descendant of a muse and a greek youth who would likely have been more in love with Apollo than with his paramour. It is also highly likely that the muse and the youth would have been related.

I'm sorry...I know...it's disappointing to come no closer to the actual identities of Lily Gene's parentage. Regarding the matter of the contract, it would be so advantageous for me to establish her pedigree. But there is a very, very good reason for me to discontinue with this path of inquiry - a historical precedent that has been set. Most mortals attempting to expose, usurp, research, or establish the veracity of muses have been turned to birds or flowers, or something much worse.

As luck would have it, one can invoke a muse, but the most effective spells and incantations are the providence of the gods of antiquity. (This helps explain why the need for the contract) So, apparently, I am back to where I started: attempting a long arduous climb with the muse allotted me.

I will probably end up with bloody blisters, dog-tired, and flat on my stomach from vertigo, but, it is rumored, the views are worth it...