POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE
He stood in front of me with a sad look on his blotchy teenaged face. He didn’t speak at all, but I could see in his eyes he had plenty to say. I held his hand and promised that I would get his idea out to the world; in return, he allowed me to torture him.
I wrote my new character’s story. The point of view was unconventional but effective. His words were deeply ingrained in the sequence of events I put him through. Happy with the outcome, I allowed my character to rest from his troubles and pushed the “submit” button. What came back to me was a disappointment. THEY didn’t want the story of my thwarted young man. His story didn’t fit their needs.
I immediately felt a stinging in my eyes. I had made a bargain: his promise to allow me to put him through the fire and my promise to get him to the public.
I opened my computer browser, did a search and found another public place to send my story.
Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.