Anyone seen Betty??

[Recidiva]

Betty is a rabble rouser.

Well, she can't have him. Them. Whatever. It's out of the question.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Well, she can't have him. Them. Whatever. It's out of the question.

Its okay, she doesn't speak english anyway, just tell them to smile and nod.

 

[Recidiva]

Its okay, she doesn't speak english anyway, just tell them to smile and nod.

I don't tell them what to do. I'll politely suggest it.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I don't tell them what to do. I'll politely suggest it.

with a sharp stick?

 

[Recidiva]

with a sharp stick?

No, it's you I poke with a sharp stick. Not them.

I sleep sometimes, you know.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

No, it's you I poke with a sharp stick. Not them.

I sleep sometimes, you know.

I keep forgetting, it feels soooo good.

Are Sal's muses still rampaging?

 

[Recidiva]

I keep forgetting, it feels soooo good.

Are Sal's muses still rampaging?

They're making sure wombats are included in the fuzzy fic.

Contract negotiations.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

They're making sure wombats are included in the fuzzy fic.

Contract negotiations.

Muses have red tape?? No wonder why Betty can be such a bitch at times.

 

[Recidiva]

Muses have red tape?? No wonder why Betty can be such a bitch at times.

If they have it, it usually gets wrapped around my mouth.

They get annoyed.

I talk too much.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

If they have it, it usually gets wrapped around my mouth.

They get annoyed.

I talk too much.

I ramble on incoherently, they ignore me.

Betty reminds me to stop slouching.

She smacks my hands with a ruler too.

 

[FallingToFly]

Betty is my muse.

Does anyone else have a personal relationship with their muse(s)? Have you hugged them today?

~Abs~

I have no idea what my muse's name is. I call her that nasty psychopathic sadistic bitch, and she lifts her head and growls "Whaddya want, whore?" She forced me to write evilness today that has no bounds... she assraped my plot with no lube, no condom, and not even a thank you slap on the ass as she zipped up and left. She's been obnoxiously silent since then....

And that wasn't the story I needed to work on today. -.-

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I have no idea what my muse's name is. I call her that nasty psychopathic sadistic bitch, and she lifts her head and growls "Whaddya want, whore?" She forced me to write evilness today that has no bounds... she assraped my plot with no lube, no condom, and not even a thank you slap on the ass as she zipped up and left. She's been obnoxiously silent since then....

And that wasn't the story I needed to work on today. -.-

You're muse writes comedy then?

 

[Recidiva]

I ramble on incoherently, they ignore me.

Betty reminds me to stop slouching.

She smacks my hands with a ruler too.

My gentlemen have red glowy eyes.

They encourage slouching. Too straight of a spine means I'm getting uppity.

I'm not saying what they do with rulers.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

My gentlemen have red glowy eyes.

They encourage slouching. Too straight of a spine means I'm getting uppity.

I'm not saying what they do with rulers.

Your muses and my demons should get together and play bingo.

 

[Recidiva]

Your muses and my demons should get together and play bingo.

With human eyeballs!

 

[ABSTRUSE]

With human eyeballs!

Is there any other way???

 

[Recidiva]

Is there any other way???

The noisemakers when you win are the best part. Well, depending on your sense of humor. And pain tolerance.

 

[FallingToFly]

You're muse writes comedy then?

If you call a fistfight in the snow between a professional skaeboarder and a half-naked rock guitarist from Finland comedy... yeah. The best part was the gay man sitting on the steps smoking pot, because he's HIV positive and not about to get in the middle of a brawl with his best friend's fiancee and drinking buddy.

Unfortunately, it added more complication to the plot of two seperate stories, and both the authors are kicking my muse in the metaphysical arse right now.

 

[zeb1094]

My muse came to me about a year ago and 90,000 words flashed out the end of my fingers just as quick as I could hit the keys. Since then she has visited on occassion but not often enough. I have about six WIPs and open them all one time or another but the words don't come. I have stuggled through a few to the finish but it was like trying to get blood from a stone.

All told I have about another 60 to 70 thousand words in stories that she helped me start and then disappeared, right in the middle.

I will sit here and await her return in pain because the stories are waiting to be told and without her I am nothing.

 

[Nirvanadragones]

I love the concept of having a heavenly beauty to inspire me, but I don't have a muse. People inspire me, places inspire. A smell, a colour, a song, words. a memory. Life speaks to me and I write to make sense of it.

Some people view a muse as the true speaker with the author being merely a vessel through which she speaks. For me, writing is something incredibly intimate. I write for me, and I write from me. The work that I am most satisfied with was written at times in my life when i had severe emotional turmoil and even anguish. I find it very hard to write when i am happy. Even the happy stuff sounds cliche'd and ordinary. But that does not stop me from writing - both to capture memories, but also, when I do reflect back at a later stage, I see the beauty in what I had written, and I can recall the intense emotion clearly.

I call on deities and nature to assist me in finding meaning. And I sit with my emotions, and my voices inside my head. Then I write. I believe in the flow... when words just wash out like water. That happens often to me... when i cannot get the words down on paper fast enough. Maybe my muse is introvert or in denial? Who knows

 

[Recidiva]

I love the concept of having a heavenly beauty to inspire me, but I don't have a muse. People inspire me, places inspire. A smell, a colour, a song, words. a memory. Life speaks to me and I write to make sense of it.

Some people view a muse as the true speaker with the author being merely a vessel through which she speaks. For me, writing is something incredibly intimate. I write for me, and I write from me. The work that I am most satisfied with was written at times in my life when i had severe emotional turmoil and even anguish. I find it very hard to write when i am happy. Even the happy stuff sounds cliche'd and ordinary. But that does not stop me from writing - both to capture memories, but also, when I do reflect back at a later stage, I see the beauty in what I had written, and I can recall the intense emotion clearly.

I call on deities and nature to assist me in finding meaning. And I sit with my emotions, and my voices inside my head. Then I write. I believe in the flow... when words just wash out like water. That happens often to me... when i cannot get the words down on paper fast enough. Maybe my muse is introvert or in denial? Who knows

Mine's just transgendered schizophrenia.

 

[Guest]

Mine's just transgendered schizophrenia.

Hey! that sounds like Susan. Once upon a time, i thought she was a muse but then i found out shes just satan's spawn sent to sit on my left shoulder and whisper words of encouragement...and then take me down to the depths of despair... bitch! shes like some addictive narcotic with nicotine stained fingers and hypnotic eyes. she comes and goes but mostly...she goes. fickle whoremonger that she is.

i thought she was Absy once. but then i thought about it long and hard and realized that Absy had the brain we shared and cohesive memory was elusive at best.

its been nearly 7 months since i've written anything. fucktard strumpet has taken my will and replaced it with a tattered bookmark of want.
it makes me want to smite sumphin.

 

[Recidiva]

Hey! that sounds like Susan. Once upon a time, i thought she was a muse but then i found out shes just satan's spawn sent to sit on my left shoulder and whisper words of encouragement...and then take me down to the depths of despair... bitch! shes like some addictive narcotic with nicotine stained fingers and hypnotic eyes. she comes and goes but mostly...she goes. fickle whoremonger that she is.

i thought she was Absy once. but then i thought about it long and hard and realized that Absy had the brain we shared and cohesive memory was elusive at best.

its been nearly 7 months since i've written anything. fucktard strumpet has taken my will and replaced it with a tattered bookmark of want.
it makes me want to smite sumphin.

Mine just spawn more of each other. I think I'm getting an idea out of my head, but no. I'm really just solidifying them so they can stick around forever.

Some of the stuff I'm not writing. Nossir.

"That's sick."
"Yeah, isn't it cool?"
"Yes, but I'm not writing that down."

 

[Guest]

Mine just spawn more of each other. I think I'm getting an idea out of my head, but no. I'm really just solidifying them so they can stick around forever.

Some of the stuff I'm not writing. Nossir.

"That's sick."
"Yeah, isn't it cool?"
"Yes, but I'm not writing that down."

i hear ya. Susan wants me to write more on the death series. it frightens me, the shit she comes up with. but then, it kinda makes me giggle.
She plays movies behind my eyes at the most obscene times like when im driving. doesn't she know that if im dead she cant make me write?!
she needs bitch slapping in the worst way.

 

[Recidiva]

i hear ya. Susan wants me to write more on the death series. it frightens me, the shit she comes up with. but then, it kinda makes me giggle.
She plays movies behind my eyes at the most obscene times like when im driving. doesn't she know that if im dead she cant make me write?!
she needs bitch slapping in the worst way.

Maybe if you're dead she can haunt you forever. Or take over your body. Or other stuff.

Sounds like she'd like bitch slapping.