once upon a ti...

My muse is sick.  She usually has ADD, that’s nothing new.  But she’s scatterbrained and forgetful today.  I don’t think she’s combed her hair recently.  I think she’s hungry.  Maybe she’s just tired and that’s why the words keep swirling in inky black clouds in between her fingers and puffing through her hair. 

Poor thing.  She thinks of all these great phrases and stories and plots and ideas but she’s too lazy to see them through.  She’s got the one percent inspiration down.  The ninety-nine percent perspiration not so much.  Because, honestly, it’s way more fun to just pretend genius.