My Muse Drools


Reflections on my week of writing:

  • Time slips through my fingers like water. I struggle to hold onto it, but I can’t.
  • Word Count: I’m coming up to the half way point, rounding the corner, looking up at the twisted path to the Dark Moment and trembling in my slippers. Pushing the first draft through is like dragging a jagged rock up a hill side, mottled with sneaky pits of quicksand. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But I struggle with the process and uncertainty of it all.
  • Social Media: Is the seduction of SM hurting, or helping my writing? Time will tell.
  • Research: This week, I learned, “stiletto” is an Italian word for a small metal dagger. (Who knew?)
  • Gripe: Using”text” as a verb sucks. It’s necessary for plot but hits the ear like shards of shattered glass. As in: He texted, “I love you.” (Uggh.)   or… His text read: “I love you.” (Better, but I don’t like to hang out in the past tense.) I swear, “text” is a noun that the gods, of all that is right in writing, never meant to be mangled into a verb. Couldn’t we change it to something easier on the ear like cybered?

Chester: My muse is a hundred pound, drooling Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Chester. My husband could time the steaks on the barby by the length of his drool which hung down both sides of his mouth. Three inches was about right for a medium rare, Costco tenderloin. He was at peace with his drool. I’m sure he knew it wasn’t his most appealing feature, but he shared it anyways. His  favourite spot for rubbing it was on my skirts. He had a thing about dresses.There were  many  mornings he chased me around the house while I screamed, “Nooo Chester, Nooo…”   Chessie drool smells foul. Believe me, once you’re  marked by a Chesapeake, the world knows you have a big  hound dog in your life. That or a sewer.

So why is Chester my muse? I could tell Chester anything. He was a devoted  listener. He made me believe that anything I said was a pearl of wisdom dropping from heaven. His soulful eyes looked at me with a depth of love that touched my soul.  I would tell him the secrets of my heart and read him my writing. He listened to it all. It was like he understood me. And no matter what I said or did, he loved me. He saw the family through many of life’s speed bumps, and was like an anchor in our stormy world. What more could I want from a muse?

Chester passed on to doggy heaven last spring, but he will be forever the best dog I ever had – and my muse.

So…my muse drools. What does yours do?

Author: Jo-Ann Carson

About Jo-Ann Carson Where magic happens … Reports of Jo-Ann Carson’s death on a Gulf Island are greatly exaggerated or, at the very least, premature. The eclectic crew of ghosts that haunt her head spill onto the page in two series: The Gambling Ghosts and The Ghost & Abby Mysteries. A Viking with existential issues, a broken hearted Highlander, a Casanova man-witch and a Pirate with a secret are just a few of the males her strong heroines encounter in tales of fantasy, adventure and romance. A firm believer in the magic of our everyday lives, Jo-Ann loves watching sunrises, walking beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest and reading by the fire. You can visit her on social media: Website * Blog * Twitter * Facebook

6 thoughts on “My Muse Drools”

  1. Your muse was a cutie…maybe you need to replace him?
    I also have a canine muse. Mine was bought in Czechoslovakia by Daniela, is about 1/2 inch long and is curled up with his little porcelain nose resting on his paws. He gazes at me with adoration, which I love to see and he sits directly under my monitor to keep me compnay during all my working hours….and best of all….no drool!


    1. An exquisite gift, from half way around the world from a cherished friend, he sits by you offering love and inspiration. Your muse sounds wonderful Mimi. I love the image you create. I also like the drooless part:)


  2. I love your muse and I don’t really think you can replace a pet until you’re ready. But maybe next time you could get one of the teacup dogs? They’re so different from Chessie, it’s not even like you’re replacing him. You’ll just have another companion who will listen, uncritically, to everything you say and give unconditional love.

    I tried to copy and paste a picture of one in a teacup but it won’t do it for some reason. Anyway now I’ll get back to my writing.


  3. I don’t know if I have a muse. Maybe I should get one. But I honestly don’t know what to do with one if I got it. I am glad that your dog works for you. Being a dog person, I love dogs all shapes and sizes. I have little dogs, they use me for a spring board. I have a burse in the shape of a paw print.


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