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.
