Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Today were hunting the big game, the elusive Terran muse. Now there are all kinds of techniques you can apply, but for now, we’re going to go over the basics of muse hunting.
Your mind is blank, you can’t pen a word. Many authors have found themselves mired down in writer’s block, desperately trying to find inspiration. It doesn’t have to be like this. Any author can capture a muse with a little know how. And today on Hunting Fiction, I’m going to show you how.
The first thing you need to do is slip into some hunting clothes. Today, we’re hunting special game and I’m decked out in camo with combat boots and a Rambo-style bandana, employing a little limp to my gait.
Now depending on what you’re looking for, you might want to switch up your hunting gear. Sexy shorts and tank tops will also help if you’re looking for the erotic variety of muse. I’m hunting dystopian muse today, so I didn’t trim back the fabric, but feel free to go skimpy if that’s what you’re targeting. Accessorize, whatever. But for God’s sake, lose the bathrobe and sweats. You’ll scare them away looking like that.
*Clutches breech-loading, pump action shotgun to chest* A good weapon also helps. The sound of this sucker loading, will draw the game to you. Remember, our girl chases zombies and won’t be able to resist. Hand to hand combat also works. I recommend a little UFC. You need to call to the muse’s baser desires. In this case, our girl craves the double tap—and Twinkies. No, scratch that. I always mix up Woody and my dystopian muse. No Twinkies.
Now if you’ve been sitting a while and you haven’t seen any sign of muse, a good idea is to use a call. In this instance, a death rattle works wonders. Moans can also draw our muse out into the open, but you need to be on the proper hunting ground, or they’re not going to hear you. Doing it in public can also get you into trouble, so be sure you’re alone when you start calling your game to you. You know what they say. Location, location, location. So follow me while we move to a more suitable environment. *Starts off toward the woods.*
There are a number of snares you can employ. *Suddenly ducks behind tree and lowers voice to a whisper* Look over there, skipping through the field of flowers with a harp, and wearing a toga. Now that’s a classical muse. The best lure I can think of is golden apples, re-runs of 300, and Gerard Butler. She’s not the game we’re looking for today, but if you want to bag a classical muse, those lures are pretty fool proof. Come on, let’s not attract her attention. *motions with hand for you to follow*
With dystopian muse, I find doomsday preparation shows to be great bait to set your trap. Nothing like thinking about the end of the world to draw a zombie hunting muse into your sights.
*raises finger to lips* Look over there, clumped against the barbwire fence watching the cowboy on the horse. Those are Western muses. Now they like leather, Stetsons and cow shit. Sorry, that smell kind of goes hand and hand with cowboys. Never fear, you can always toss them in a shower and soap them up. *Clears throat.* The cowboys, not the muses, and stop thinking about soaping cowboys up in the showers. *Cocks thumbs toward fence.* We’ve got their attention and that’s the last thing we need right now. Come on, let’s get out of here before they decide to move closer. There’s too many here to handle on our own. When multiple muses attack it’s never pretty. You end up with a lot of unfinished manuscripts.
Oh the stories I can tell you about cowboys. I once got lassoed by a cowboy. *Glances back.* Run. *Hauls ass into old barn and up into the loft, pulling up wooden ladder.* That was close. You need to clear your mind, or we’re not going to catch the muse we’re looking for. *Looks around* Now this is excellent hunting ground. Go over into the shadows and start moaning. I’ll keep watch.
No, no, no, not that kind of moan. You’re working the Western muses up again. They think we’re having an orgy up here in the hay. *Points down to over excited muses dressed as saloon girls jumping and trying to reach the loft.* Put less sex, and more pain in it. That’s it. Get your zombie on. Look over there. *points out window. See her? She’s in black, sticking close to the buildings. Wait for it. *raises hand and pumps shotgun with single hand. Muse begins to run toward barn.* Hold. Not yet. Let her get closer. And... Now! *Drops steel cage on muse*
Booyah! Look at that one. We got us a real tree-shaker. A beauty. Whooeeeee! Dat un will be good writing.
*Starts whispering and sets 12 gauge to the side.* So, it was a great hunt today. We saw a variety of muse, but we got what we come here for. *Guitars begin to play in the distance. Muse in cage is now wearing saloon girl clothes and carrying a sword. Turns and looks back. * What did I tell you about thinking about soaping up the cowboys in the shower? Now we’ve crossed genres. Oh well. I guess we’ll have Old West, zombie-hunting cowboys.
Just one parting bit advice I’d like to share before we wrap up our hunting excursion today. If none of these techniques work for you, you can always relax. A muse can’t resist down-time. Take out your beach towel, sunglasses and a drink. I guarantee she’ll be right there, screaming, me, me, me.
Next week I’ll show you techniques for the proper preservation of your wild game. Until then, have fun bagging your muse.