Got any good muse?

By Gayle Carline

I recently spent a couple of Saturdays meeting the public and hand-selling my books. I do a few of these gigs every year, where I have a table of books and promotional materials, and spend several hours signing books and talking to everyone. My table typically looks like this:

The tiara is optional.

 

These guys are always present.

 

Booker (l), Hatch (r)

 

I bought them originally because they are part of my first mystery, Freezer Burn. One day, someone asked me who they were and I said, “They’re my muses. The one with the book is Booker. He reminds me to always write well. The other one is Hatch. He says if I don’t sit my tush down in the chair and write, he’s going to use his axe to start chopping fingers.”

 

Here’s the thing: it’s a total lie. Gnomes are not my muses.

 

This is my muse:

Me and Frostie (aka, One Zip in Time)

 

When I was little, my favorite activity was to take a big sheet of paper and my pencils and crayons, and draw a picture that told a story. The drawing would start small, as a house with a tree and a girl. Then as I told the story, more things got added, from cities to dragons to horses to fighter jets — sue me, I had an imagination. What my visual-arts-centric family saw was an artist.

 

What I see now is that I wanted to be a storyteller.

 

I also loved horses, but like storytelling, it wasn’t encouraged. Instead, I was sent down the road of painting and "safer pets," like canaries.

 

Fast forward a few (okay, a lot of) years. The storytelling bug was nipping at my heels, so I told my hubby I might want to write. He bought me a laptop. I started many, many, MANY stories.

 

I finished the Christmas letter.

 

Fast forward a few more (this time I’m serious) years. Hubby knew I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse, so he bought me horseback riding lessons. I took lessons for about six months, started showing my trainer’s champion trail horse, then a year later purchased the sweetie in the picture above.

 

When I bought her, a lock was broken in my spirit and I started writing. I began with articles that ended up getting me a paying gig with Riding Magazine. With that boost in confidence, I asked for a column in my local newspaper. After I got that, I started writing fiction.

 

Getting to know my little red mare has taught me about myself. She can be spooky (we tease that she sees dead people), and knowing I can calm a 1,000-lb animal has given me confidence. When I first started riding her, I admit I was frightened, but it taught me that I was too stubborn to quit. Standing in the arena with her, letting her rest her head against my arm, I learned how to let my mind alone and be in the moment.

 

It is a simple thing to say, but perhaps a difficult thing to understand. A horse enabled me to write.

SO...

 

Who is your muse, and what do they give you?