The thing about my muse is he’s always been a little elusive. I know the kinds of places where he hangs out, he’s a story-muse, lurking between the lines of other people’s writings. But I’ve never been able to predict which pages will reveal him.
Typically, he leapt out from the challenge set by Diana Wallace Peach, for bloggers to share dialogues with their muses, after her deadline. Luckily, Diana is a forgiving, generous soul who gave us an extension.
Give my muse an inch and immediately he takes advantage. So, instead of the conversation Diana had suggested, my muse led me back to that afternoon, around a year ago, when he finally fixed on a form.
Up to that point he’d had two modes of presence. Mostly, he preferred to be almost invisible, hovering just beyond my eyeline. No matter how quickly I turned, or craftily I looked into mirrored surfaces, I’d not see his shape.
This, no doubt, was influenced by his preference for omniscient narrators. Although, now I think about it, perhaps his disembodiment had been inspired by the number of omniscient narrators in my early reading. It all depends on whether he’s been directing my reading, or my reading has directed him. I’d ask, but he’s not the kind of muse who provides anything I request.
At other times he’d shift from one form to another without worrying whether I was midway through a project, or not. I’ve known him to grin suddenly from a corner of a complicated abstract painting; stare out from a crowd scene in a film; uncurl from misshapen lumps on trees, fissures in rock-faces and shadowed lamp-posts on deserted streets. He’s got that kind of sense of humour. He loves jumping from one novel to another, to a poem, to a flash fiction and back to a novel again, crossing continents and centuries, clothes and shape. Often I didn’t realise until hours later that he’d been there.
So it was a shock to find that not only had he settled into a perfectly formed and detailed miniature, but that he had seated himself on the edge of the top shelf in the bric-a-brac section of our local charity shop. He was leaning forward. One leg dangled, the other was crossed across his knee and he was resting his elbow on it, watching as I entered the shop.
Jasper, I thought, as naturally as if I’d always known his name.
Despite his plain brown habit, he stood out. Perhaps it was the large nosed face, or the wrinkles of concentration on his forehead. Maybe he winked. He certainly smirked as he saw me turn away from the bookshelves.
One hand cupped his cheek, half hiding the twist of his lips, but I could see by his eyes that he smiled, and I smiled back, then moved hurriedly forward, in the opposite direction to the bookshelves, past the other browsing customers, to claim him.
He was heavy, reassuringly so, and had gravitas. I’d not expected that, especially since I could see that he was slyly picking his nose. Well, I thought, it probably could be worse. At least I’d got him now. From this point on, I would always know where to look.
Jasper quirked an eyebrow.
I settled him on my palm as I scanned the bookshelves. Was I really going to buy my muse? Was that even possible?
Jasper gave me a straight look. He jiggled his dangling foot, and waited for me to find my money.
What price? Well, the charity shop charged me £3.50.
Not bad for amuse my dear. x
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Thank you, 😁. xx
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Can a gargoyle be a muse?
Do muses exist?
How many muses can sit on the edge of a single shelf?
How many fine words does it take to butter no parsnips?
Who is Sylvia?
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Some apposite questions Josie. When I asked Jasper, he gazed up into the corner, with that slightly smug twist to his lips that I’m beginning to know well. I have the feeling he knows exactly who Sylvia is.
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Thanks for playing along and sharing your muse, Cath. I love how you met, and I can totally see it. I’m posting the last muse posts today, so I’ll add this one on at the end of the day.
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Thank you, Diana, that is generous of you 🙂
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Please be wary of any entity that slyly picks their nose.
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I am, believe me, I still remember how that worked out in Ghost Busters!
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I love your description of his shifting forms; now you see me, now you don’t. He’ll not get away so easily now 😉
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He shouldn’t, but I’m a little concerned that Jasper may be closely associated to Jester…
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The best muse story yet! He is perfect and like any muse, is up to no good.
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Thank you, Darlene. Your last point is exactly how I feel about him. I’m not going to get complacent about him.
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So, your muse is a shape-shifting trickster, wily as Odysseus, sly as Brer Rabbit, as quirky as a psammead? Have your fingers crossed behind your back when he proffers inspiration, just in case…
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Thanks, Chris, good advice, I’m trying to retain some semblance of sense…
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Delightful and engaging, Cath! Just love your muse 🙂 Mine is also a shape-shifter, but prefers to remain elusive.
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Thank you, Rosaliene. Your muse sounds like he/she may have a similar sense of humour to Jasper!
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Reblogged this on Myths of the Mirror and commented:
The last of the muse posts! This learned muse, named Jasper, comes to us from Cath. Enjoy!
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Thank you, Diana, you’re very generous.
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My pleasure. I’m so glad I was able to fit all the posts in, Cath. They were a blast. Thanks for sharing your muse! I hope he serves you well. Hugs. 🙂
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You have a fun and quirky muse Cath. I wonder if Jasper makes house calls to other writers?
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It wouldn’t surprise me.
Thank you for reading.
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Yay!
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Pingback: Meet the Muse Wrap Up | Myths of the Mirror
Fun post! Glad you finally tracked him down. I’d keep an eye on him too.
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I do try, but it’s sometimes tricky to decide when he’s ’embodied’ and when I’m looking to a shell.
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As far as I know, Shakespeare never got the muse of fire he so desperately wanted.
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He wanted fire? I wonder why he thought he didn’t have it?
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I have no idea.
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Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie ~ Authors.
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Thank you. I’m honoured!
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At least you will always know where to find him!
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In theory. I’m not sure he’s always ‘in’, but he does seem more willing to be ‘called’ now.
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All that fun and more to come for £3.50!
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I know, a bargain!
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I love Jasper! And he came so cheap, too.
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He thanks you, Liz, though not modestly, I’m not sure he has much of that.
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Chortle!
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A beautiful, magical, mystical post! You were meant to meet him in this unexpected manner is what I feel. 😀
Jasper, Jasper… Have you met my muse? Her name is Juniper, I think. Will let you and Cath know if I meet her.
Thanks Cath!
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Thank you, Jagriti. I hope Juniper is as helpful to you as Jasper is to me!
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I wonder if he will hide himself and reappear in unexpected places!
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Oh yes, still doing that, too. I think that’s a relief, I wouldn’t want him to be too predictable!
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I used to have a little porcelain figure like that! Then the cat discovered him …
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Funny thing, I used to have a cat like that! Unfortunately, long since passed, but still remembered with great joy… he too was a kind of muse.
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congrats on the terrific find! he looks a little like the god Thoth, who I think looks after writers…
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Thoth? Thanks, I’ll remember that.
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Well I think Jasper is very sweet! I’ve never seen my muse personified, though I will say the jars of rocks that my kids have filled help. One’s got the mysterious Safety Walnut. What is a Safety Walnut? No idea, but Bash was adamant that we must keep it in the house at all costs. Every little piece of Nature can tell a story! x
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Jasper thanks you, Jean. He does love a compliment, and has just gone all coy.
I like the idea of a Safety Walnut. It sounds like something the clever cobbler would have recognised and hung on to. I feel sure there are several stories connected to that walnut, which must mean it has muse-like properties… x
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