The first bit of this popped into my head the other day when cadhla posted an open letter to her muse, Jane. Now, we’ve being hearing about Jane for years, but somehow this time it connected with that odd bit of MY brain, and…well….
This is obviously from cadhla‘s point of view…
Musing on Jane
by Rob Wynne
TTTO: “Jane” by Barenaked Ladies
She lives inside my head, sweet Jane the muse
She lives on fiction, cigarettes and booze
She dictates plots to me and I just weep
I wish she would shut up and let me sleep
Jane, doesn’t seem to understand I have to work
Jane, doesn’t care that she is acting like a jerk
I wrote a story and thought it was grand
I didn’t know she had four sequels planned
I must look like a crazy foreigner
Arguing with myself on street corners
Jane, has more ideas than I’ve hours in the day
Jane, pesters me all night and will not go away
I wrote a novel
Tor should have got it yesterday
Why it would be best now to take a short rest now
is what I cannot explain to Jane
Still living in my head, sweet Jane the muse
Still sending more ideas than I can use
I’m not sure how she got inside my brain
I write her words out longhand on the train
Jane, has yet another trilogy for me to write
Jane, doesn’t see why I think I should sleep tonight
Hee hee hee hee! Oh, that is a thing of beauty.
Heee! Oh, that is so perfect!
Perhaps there should be a sequel, to the tune of “Jane’s Gettin’ Serious.”
On second thought, the original lyrics suit without too much change. Maybe someone should cover it, with a dedication. 🙂
It is terrifying that I now know of enough stories (and poems in one case) about Seanan and Seanan’s head-furniture to do a themed concert/roast.
Yes, I suppose one’s Muse *should* live in one’s head. But just because the lights are on doesn’t mean she’s home.
Mine seems to be quite the flighty gal-about-town type, at least for the past several months. I wonder what town
she’s in. 🙁
PS -- One of these days Rob’s gonna filk a song I know the damn melody to. 🙂
This is the first I’ve heard of anyone’s naming one’s muse. (I’m not counting Cacophone, the muse of filk.)
Oh, you should go read
‘s LJ sometime. She’s great fun.
Jane demanded a name. And an apartment. We’re still arguing about that last bit, but she seems to be winning.
Plus then you can go, “Jane, you ignorant slut.”
She’s much easier to swear at when she has a name. And one of my fics opens with the dedication to a friend who “flogged my muse with a North Atlantic sea salmon, then teased her to the point of ecstacy before skipping away laughing, leaving the evil bitch hanging.” (Funnily enough, after that she became cooperative.) They’re easier to whine about when they have names, too.
Nice. Some people have the drive to get great works done. Others are driven. *grin*