Interview With My Muse: The Woman Who Hijacks My YouTube History
Interviewer (Me): Thank you for agreeing to this interview. You’ve been lurking in my creative process for… what, several years now?
Muse: Decades, darling. I’ve been around longer than your browser history. You simply didn’t notice me until you started researching where that pesky sword could have gone to. Now, you’re looking for entire armies! You’ve certainly branched out.
Interviewer: Yes, about that. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the way you hijack my YouTube recommendations lately. Last week you sent me from “10-Minute Yoga for Tight Shoulders” to a three-hour documentary the lost army of Cambyses.
Muse: And you’re welcome. The shoulder tension was emotional. Your protagonist needed to get grounded in the myths. If you don’t know where they start, how can you possibly track them through all of those shifting dunes?
Interviewer: You also interrupted my grocery shopping to insist I watch that Egyptian Magic lecture in the parking lot.
Muse: You didn’t even remember to bring a grocery list, so you were just begging for an excuse. Besides, you only really need bananas and coffee, and you can’t expect inspiration to wait for wi-fi.
Interviewer: Since my readers haven’t met you yet, how would you describe yourself?
Muse: Oh, I do hate labels, but for you, darling, I’ll try. I’m the kind of person who always smells faintly of sandalwood and old books. I take my cues from the world at large, sampling all of the history and characters that have walked the timelines, never ruling out an interesting conversation with anyone who happens by. You never know when you’ll stumble on a bored coyote looking for a new partner and an adventure.
Interviewer: That… is scary accurate. How did you get assigned to me?
Muse: Assigned? Darling, I chose you. I saw someone who loves history, mythology, and pretending they’re “just going to skim one article.” You were ripe for a different path, and it worked – but you did take your time making the commitment, didn’t you?
Interviewer: I had obligations. What would you say is your main job?
Muse: To nudge you. To whisper. To drag you by the sleeve into the deep end of research when you thought you were just checking your email. To point out the archaeological footnote you almost ignored. To insist that you write stories with bones in them; stories rooted in real people who lived and dreamed long before you found their memories.
Interviewer: I’ve noticed you usually work at inconvenient hours.
Muse: Inspiration is a feral creature; it does not obey office hours – and you should be one to talk! The neighbors are talking darling, they see your lights on at four a.m..
Interviewer: Do you ever think about giving me a heads-up before you strike?
Muse: Absolutely not. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, your best ideas arrive when you’re trying to do something sensible and ordinary, like sleep.
Interviewer: One last question: any message for my readers?
Muse: Treat history like a mirror, mythology like a map, and your imagination like a half-wild garden – don’t weed it too soon because something interesting might bloom. And if your YouTube history suddenly develops an obsession with ancient irrigation systems…
(smiles)
…you’re welcome.
R. Leonia Shea 