But, some of you are asking, why go through all this trouble? It’s just a snack, after all, right?
Oh contraire, gentle readers. Muse food really serves three functions.

First, you are now armed with one of the writer’s secret weapons. A moment of decadent joy. This pampering can be a great pick me up when you’re deep in the work and need a treat (or bribe, depending) to keep yourself going. (For instance – if I write three more sentences, I can have six Cheetos. Or, to celebrate the end of this blog entry, I’m going to have a bowl of Cheetos.)

Second, if you reserve this special feast for times when you want to lure in creativity, your mind will begin to associate these foods, and the vessels you’ve chosen to serve them, with your writing. This allows you easier access to that coveted writing head space that is sometimes so hard to achieve, setting the stage in your mind that it’s now time to get some serious creating done.

Finally, there really is something to creating a treat for the Muse. Mythical creatures require magical care, and setting aside something for them, even if only symbolically, can help you connect to your Muse in a way that transcends the mundane world we live in, allowing you to channel the mystical stuff that makes writing creatively possible.

You awaken at dawn with a start. The sound of chanting fills the air as your native porters go about the business of starting breakfast. The eastern sky is salmon-hued, as the first sliver of a golden sun edges above the horizon.

Next time, you vow, you’ll not make the same mistake. But for now, you head into your tent and pull out your portable field typewriter. There are words to be written – and there is no time like the present!

Likewise, once you bait the trap with Muse food, and partake of your feast, it’s time to get to work yourself. Go. Create. Carpe diem!

Copyright 2011 by Nan Sampson All rights reserved.

A cup, a cup, my kingdom for a cup!

Now that you’ve got your perfect Muse food in mind, the next step is to find an appropriate container to both hold the food item and, equally importantly, to attract the Muse. My Muse happens to be attracted to fine bone china in a violet pattern. Others might like a fiesta ware bowl, or a vintage square Tupperware Christmas plate. And for some of you, a Styrofoam cup may even suffice.

The caution here is not to spend the next two years searching second hand stores, antique malls, and the houseware departments of various stores seeking that special item. The point is to find something that you already own or that can be easily and affordably obtained for your purposes. (Which is not to say scouring antique places and flea markets and so forth doesn’t have its own appeal, and also can make excellent artist’s dates. Just think of all the characters and dialogue notes…)

Once you’ve got that ‘grail’ in your hands, you’re nearly ready.
* * *

“Now, Bwana,” N’gawa says, “Place the coveted food item in the bowl and go hide behind the tree at the edge of camp.”

“A libation!” Then, more quietly, “That’s it. The Muse also requires a libation. N’gawa, what do we have on hand?”
* * *
Muses, just like writers, cannot live by bread (or Cheetos, or chocolate, or garlic mashed potatoes) alone. This is why, in part, so many writers keep high priced coffee houses and quirky neighborhood pubs in business.

So now it’s time to think about your favorite beverage, your poison of choice. Is it a bottle of Orange Nehi soda? A bottle of Chateau Neuf de Pape? Or maybe a soy, half-caff Macchiato with whipped cream and a sprinkle of nutmeg? Or how about a pint of Old Peculiar ale?

What form of liquid bliss makes you feel writerly? Comforted? Puts you in that special frame of mind necessary to create?

Whatever it is, it’s good Muse Bait. So hie yourself off to the local dispensary and lay in a cup or a pint or a bottle of whatever floats your boat. And install it forth with in your Muse trap, right along side your Muse Food.
** *

You gingerly place your libation into the trap, your hand hovering for just an instant over the tantalizing feast. You realize you’ve missed the elegant dinner the porters prepared while you sat in the brush waiting for the Muse, and you’re starving. But no – these sacred victuals are for a far nobler purpose than filling your empty gullet.

Darkness surrounds you, the sky now a blue-black blanket, awash in stars. Time passes and the sounds of the night lull you into a deep drowse…

Okay. You’ve found you Muse food, and your beverage, you’ve placed those morsels of orange, crunchy goodness in the vessel of perfection and the beverage along side.

What did you say? What do you do now?

Why, you feast, of course!

Oh, you could leave them on an altar – or the kitchen table, or the corner of your desk – for a bit, if you are so inclined. But just as in ancient Egypt, when the priests of Amun provided a feasts for the representation of the god to eat, after an appropriate amount of time had passed for the god to partake of his ethereal sustenance, the priests would then feast themselves. There was no point in letting all that good food go to waste, and so it is with Muse food as well.

So feast with abandon upon your Muse food, quaff the sacred libation, and know that as you do so you are filling your soul with the creative spirit, even as you’re making your mouth and tummy happy!

Enjoy! Your Muse will thank you.

Copyright 2011 by Nan Sampson All rights reserved.

Muse Food. Food of the Gods. Ambrosia. Call it what you will, it is that food – the one you’d walk two miles through the densest jungle, braving leopards and snakes and all manner of hostile natives to get, that is the best food to use to bait your Muse Trap.

Join me now as we emabark on a journey to track down and lure the wild Muse. Consider, if you will, the following scenario…

Imagine. You’re in camp, on the trail of the wild Muse. The sun is sinking down towards the horizon and the jackals are starting to yip, far too close to camp for comfort. You’re surfeit after an enormous meal your porters have prepared for you, and yet, you’re still craving something. Suddenly a native rushes into camp and begins babbling at your porters in their native tongue. You stride over and demand from your chief porter and translator, N’gawa, that he tell you what’s going on. He gives you that hundred yard stare, the one that always unnerves you, but his tone nevertheless remains respectful as he replies, “It is nothing really. A bit of useless news. One of the locals says that there is a huge supply of Cheetos sitting in the middle of a trail about two miles to the west.” He points into the dense jungle.

N’gawa shakes his head, in the manner of all natives confronted by mad adventurers, but hurries to your side, then leads the way into the forbidding jungle…* * *

In order to lure the wild Muse into your life – the first time, or anytime it has gone wandering – one of the best ways to do it is to create a feast. And the perfect food for that feast is whatever food you’d do almost anything for. So think long and hard, and pick just one.

Copyright 2011 by Nan Sampson All rights reserved.

Had several bizarre dreams last night. One of them involved my best friend’s sister-in-law, who is seriously ill. That one, while it made no linear sense, I can recall pretty clearly. But there was another one that eludes me, although I catch glimpses of it out of the corner of my eye as I go through my day today. I can taste it. A fleeting thing, a flavor I’m not aware of long enough to savor, just enough to register it’s uniqueness. It evokes the dream, but doesn’t bring it back. It teases. And niggles. It hits me in odd moments of quiet. It’s like it wants to be remembered but is somehow unable to communicate directly with me.

Sometimes I think this is the Muse talking to me. One of my favorite authors and writing pundits, Holly Lisle, posits that the Muse doesn’t communicate on verbal terms. So dreams and other subconscious, non-verbal cues, are the path to understanding what the Muse has to say. On mornings like this, as I try to grasp smoke, I completely concur.

So what’s She trying to say to me? Well, damn it, if I could remember the dream, I might have a clue. But I can’t. It’s just a vague flavor. Something smoky, like lox or almonds. The idea occurs to me that I should find a half an hour or so to take a little nap, go back into that Delta state where I’m clearly more receptive. It would be nice if She could just leave me a voice mail on my subconscious answering machine, so I could pop back into REM and pick it up at my convenience. But there is NOTHING convenient about my Muse.

But no. No napping today. Today is Saturday, a busy day full of doing the marketing, preparing meals for the week, running to the pharmacy, doing laundry, giving the dog a much needed bath and finding the horizontal surfaces in the kitchen at the very least. I don’t see much opportunity to spend time napping… or even in quiet contemplation (O Navel navel navel navel…). So I’m sending out a message to the Muse, for Her to communicate with me a little more directly, in order to tell me what it is She’d like me to know. A picture in my head instead of words. Me, kneeling in supplication, offering up a bowl of Cheetos and a cup of Pumpkin Spice Latte to Her Exaltedness. In my vision, She smiles, accepts the offering and touches my forehead, where upon a light bulb appears over my head, like in the comics and I have an “aha” moment. Yah, no, it needs to be more direct. Like say, maybe She hits me with a brick upside the head, and suddenly all is clear. Okay, that’s more like it. She should know by now that with me subtle doesn’t work.

Maybe I should pop a couple of Excedrin Migraine now. You know, just to be prepared.