I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Friday, November 18, 2005

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story

of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
-Homer

Here I start a new blog dedicated to my Muse, long may that golden tongue implant in my soul words of strength and virility. I am blessed that my Muse is prolific, while my time for writing is short. So I am sharing some of the wonderful story fragments, the bones, or as Steven King calls them, the fossils, with the wider world. I am also doing this with the full understanding that even if I give 10 writers the same bone, I will hear 10 different stories back. I also hope to share information about my writing here as well. This is a dangerous experiment, I have no idea how my Muse will react.

My postings here are free to use for your own stories, or to kick-start your own writing. I guarantee neither success, originality (I have not researched these to see if they were once someone else’s idea), or that I won’t use them for my own work. I think you’ll see these bones have the capacity to be many different stories. All I ask is that you rephrase the bone in your own voice if you decide to use one.

Caveat emptor. Tempus fugit.

No comments: