My muse is real.

Let me describe her. She is "Tinkerbell." If not the original, she is the sister or first cousin of Walt Disney's cute little flitting fairy who spreads fairy dust in her wake.

She's only about eight inches tall but is really cute. I can tell you that I wish I were only eight inches tall so I could attempt to a, a, get her in my clutches and kiss her into oblivion.

But I digress, as this is an attempt to let my readers know how nuts this miniature temptress is. She is not with me every moment of the day. She picks and chooses when she wishes to visit. I may need to finish writing something, even a business proposal and she will have vanished. Doing what I have no idea as she does not confide in me of her personal life. She says she's totally devoted to me but I think she stretches the truth a little.

Other times I can be doing something really productive like watching a baseball game or hockey game or even making one of my masterpieces in the kitchen. The little vixen will get on my shoulder and almost yell into my ear to start typing, listen to her and start writing the story she wants to get out.

Her latest method of communication is to appear as I drive to a customer. My mind is focused on curing some strange problem discovered or imagined by the customer and my cute little flitter will fly in front of my eyes (To get my attention of course.). She'll land on my shoulder to discuss the story I have in progress or a new idea that needs to be put on paper. I've had to stop at all types of places to jot down notes or a quick outline because she nags so much, it has to be done.

She usually dresses in her little short skirt and sparkly top with a near revealing bodice but will often dress the part of the story I'm writing. She'll appear in leather, ready for a bike ride just as easily in an old maid outfit to keep a story on tract without cluttering it up with hanky panky. If she's in a playful mood she'll be wearing a super short skirt and depending on how rank her mood is, possibly no panties. Now that'll get your attention. When she's really nuts and wants to write a story like the first part of "Bare Assets" or how "Eyes" ended, she might even show up naked. Imagine a tiny little knockout flitting in front of your face snuggling up to you on your shoulder totally naked. Tempting you to wish to want more than her story telling ability. She can get rank.

I love her play acting when she swoops down to stand in front of me with her hands on her hips, one hip cocked higher than the other. She'll give me that coy smile and ask, "So you think you have an idea for a story huh? How about I give you a little help and we'll have this on paper in a flash."