Why am I doing this?
Honestly, why am I doing this?
I can’t write a story. I am strictly a reader, not a writer. Who am I kidding? I can’t do this. I have a dream, then I wake up and think I can make it into a story? Yeah right.
… still. This dream was incredible. I woke in the morning, desperately wishing I could go back in, trying to fall asleep again. It was futile. So I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, but not seeing it, because I was too busy remembering. I continued the dream where it left off in my head, charged on with the adventure.

Then I sat up, as if gripped by a great force inside. It walked me to the computer, where I proceeded to open a blank document which I am staring at now. This is ridiculous. I don’t write. I can write, but I don’t. Sure, I do essays for school. But real writing? No way.

I go over to the TV and flick it on. A morning show with a “musician.” That is, if you consider mumbling in a monotone music. It’s some guy with the ridiculous moniker AlphaBeat. I roll my eyes. Rappers. Click. I change the channel. Another morning show, this with an author who’s work I think is rubbish. It is the bubblegum pop of Youth Literature, if you ask me. Yet no one ever does.

The smiley host asks the author what techniques she uses when she has writers block. The author considers this question with such a look on her face it could make one think she is pondering the meaning of life. Finally she replies, “Well, when I feel like I’m all stuffed up and the words won’t come out, I do hot yoga. I find it very relaxing, and after that, the muse usually comes back to me.” What a ditz. As if she ever has the muse.

Muse. What a ridiculous word. It used to mean something meaningful. Now, it’s tossed around on talk shows, by daughters of celebrities, former party girls who decided to play at being authors. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

“Muse.” I say it aloud, and feel something stirring deep within me. Pardon the cliché. “Muse.” I say it louder this time. I smile, and say, “I have been gripped with the Muse.” It is a word that demands to be capitalized, and so I do.

Indeed, I have truly been gripped with something, be it Muse, or simply courage, for I race back to the computer, and begin to type.