It was Day 2 of writing and the Writer felt as if it was history test day or a crucial cricket match between Team Writer and Team Muse.
But why do they still call it ‘Muse’ she wondered.
It is not this voice from outside, nor pure whimsical inspiration. It’s words and images and scents and thoughts and plot-lines and emotions and actors all bubbling up from the deep recesses of the mind.
It’s sometimes a movie you transcribe, a scene you paint or a feeling you make concrete. Above all it is music that sings itself and that you notate.
What could possibly be the right word for such a wondrous thing? This incredible, complex, chaotic, inchoate experience?