your bone
are you sniffing your way into its secrets?
“Tell the story of how we became Typist’s muses?” Thalia twirled a curl around her index finger. “Pretteeeee, pretttteeee pleeeeeeease?”
Wanting to work play with other projects, Urania gave the short version. “Reader Stuart sent us to her — from England. He tells the story as the introduction to OUR book.”
Nią reviewed the day’s planner square while Calliope offered her version of the story. “Almost seven… holy moly!… seven?… years ago, Typist started writing short daily stories from her life. Some were good, but needed polish. Others were… ummm… let’s call them placeholders. Yes, placeholders that kept her battery charged so that she could have another go tomorrow… Like a dog with a bone, she gnawed and chewed ideas, words, and sentences… hoping to string them into a story that could move a reader.” The Muse of Harmony paused for a breath. “Her efforts were strong. And seeing that she was serious and hard working, we were sent along to help.”
Words from Typist:
I found this old muse-story from January 2017.
Our writing has improved a bit since then.
Fun to see!
My morning reading explorations yielded a list of ideas for our consideration:
Don’t weigh yourself down with responsibilities that are not your own.
Do not be colonized by other’s dread.
Give voice to your own astonishment.
Know your own bone.
What you learn, you become.
Powerful heart is stronger than powerful will.
Ignore the hat (label) to continue the work.
Hoping the ideas spark something inside of you, too.
Tell us in comments…
What excites you so much you’d devote yourself to it for nothing more than personal satisfaction?
First of all, Gail, I love your 2017 story, love the vulnerability! You have over 100 claps and I gave you some more.
Second: I used to be excited about gardening, but between the ravenous deer and my aching knees (yes, even after 2 replacement surgeries!), I've had to pretty much give up that passion. (TBH- Most days I don't miss it, which surprises the heck out of me.) Writing doesn't exactly excite me either, another surprise since I devote so much time to it. But bringing my book to fruition--break out the firehoses because I am on fire with excitement. 😅
Nia appears to be wearing an ogonek today. ( https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogonek ) I feel like she's really breaking out there. Is this a fashion statement or just a bad hair day or maybe a reference to the poem or something else? :)
THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.
One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals,
And she stood upon her head
In her little trundle-bed,
And then began hooraying with her heels.
Her mother heard the noise,
And she thought it was the boys
A-playing at a combat in the attic;
But when she climbed the stair,
And found Jemima there,
She took and she did spank her most emphatic.