It’s not me

Jane keeps wanting me to write fanfic.  Now that I’ve given in and officially accepted that she just might possibly, grudgingly, in one way or another, or even just on every other Wednesday, be my muse, she thinks she can take advantage of it.

And she insists on the fanfic.

It doesn’t matter how often I tell her that I can’t do it.  That I’ve tried before and failed after one sentence.  That the only successful piece of fanfic I ever wrote was a poem about a cat that might, at best, be deemed crack (most appopriate, actually, given the cat in question).

I tell her all of these things and she just suggests... um... interesting ideas instead.

Very ‘interesting’ indeed.  And they must be her ideas, because I wouldn’t think of something like that!  I mean, what if my mum knew I was thinking those sorts of things?  No indeed.  ’Tis all Jane.

As someone said yesterday, a muse can take both the credit and the blame for ideas.  So I’m giving the blame to Jane.

Although she hasn’t given up on the fanfic front, she decided to appease me letting me work on one of the other stories I’m currently proving in my head.  It was sulky, though.  A sort of: Fine.  If you won’t do what I want, then have this instead.  See if I care.  And then I could just imagine her standing by the doorway with her arms crossed sullenly, trying to peek at me and get me to change my mind about the other issue.

This muse business is all very weird indeed.  I still can’t decide if I liked it better when I thought I was in control of my own imagination.  Even if I wasn’t, at least I felt as though I was.

I shall now return to being bewildered about the whole thing.  Or perhaps I should turn to CSS and get back to work my layout.  At least CSS makes sense.