My muse is the ghost of Robbie past.
I see the ghostly shadow of my younger self peeking over my shoulder, watching my fingers move over the keyboard of my laptop and reading the words as they appear on my screen.
I recognise her as the little girl who used to sit quietly on a beanbag with a glass of milk and a book, and read all afternoon, every afternoon.
She was also the girl who traded sister #1 a pile of writing paper [we used to trade it at school] and an empty vanilla essence bottle [it smelled lovely] for her three library cards. Hers, when combined with my four cards, enabled me to borrow seven books at a time from our local library. This reduced my trips to the library to twice a week from three, or even four. The library was about four kilometres away from our house at this time. It doesn’t sound far, but I was eight years old at the time, so the eight kilometre round-trip, with a basket packed with seven books, took me a while.
Sometimes my younger self reminds me of the games I used to make-up as a young girl. I remember the time I involved my entire class in a mad game of catch the witch and got into a lot of trouble with my teacher when the raucous game became so loud we missed the end of break bell. My teacher, Sister I’ve Forgotten her Name but not her Fierce Expression, was extremely cross with me for master minding that one. She threatened to send me to Mother Superior’s office. Somehow, I think that game may have been a lot like ‘kikery’ from What Katy Did by Susan Coolidge. Katy got into a lot of trouble over that game too.
Ghost Robbie shares flashes of memory of sister #2 and I sitting on the roof of the garden shed [no, my mother didn’t know I led her up there] making creations for shells we gathered on the beach [no, my mother didn’t know we crossed the railway line to get to the beach either], or making baskets out of clay gathered from a ditch next to the road, or running through the veld in long dresses with plastic buckets playing Little House on the Prairie.
She reminds me of my two live dolls, sisters #s 3 and 4, who I dressed up and played with. They were my patients when I was the doctor, my children when I was the mother, Jack and Jill when we played nursery rhymes, and many other imaginary people when we played our many different games.
Sometimes, she whispers to me, reminding me of favourite scenes from well loved books from the past. If I get stuck, she’ll suggest I take a peek at one of the hundreds of books we’ve read and find inspiration. It works every time.
Most of all, she reminds me of Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery which we read when we were about ten years old. I remember how much we loved that book and how inspired we were to write poetry and descriptive passes.
We are a team and we are glad to be working together to write our children’s and adult fiction.
Author, Diana Peach, has challenged her writer friends to share a little about their muse. You can join in here: https://mythsofthemirror.com/2020/11/20/meet-the-muse-prompt/