A muse is a skittish thing, a specter. Chasing one is like trying to capture a ghost. You can barely see her out of the corner of your eye, but you know she’s there, and you know she’s not going to go willingly where you want to lead. So, you have to sneak up on her, or let her get close to you while you stand very still. Then you put your fingers on her shoulder with a light touch to let her lead you to where she wants to go, hoping that she’ll take you to her own cave and show you a new way of looking at things you thought you knew.

It’s a miserable thing to have your fingers on the shoulder of a muse, only to have her distracted by someone solidly anchored in reality coming into the room. Yes, he’s going to be as quiet as possible, that real person… he promises not to bother you, but the strong energy of reality in the vicinity is enough to make some muses scatter to the four winds.

I’m just saying, by way of apology really, Reality-Prone Folks… I’m sorry I drove you out. Please don’t be offended when I hiss “no, no… please go away” when you walk into the room. It’s just that I don’t have time to explain to the muse before she skitters off, and sometimes the gifts she gives are too valuable to lose.