A touching muse post from Robbie that shares so much of who she is as a reader and writer. Enjoy.
My muse is the ghost of Robbie past.
I see the ghostly shadow of my younger self peeking over my shoulder, watching my fingers move over the keyboard of my laptop and reading the words as they appear on my screen.
I recognise her as the little girl who used to sit quietly on a beanbag with a glass of milk and a book, and read all afternoon, every afternoon.
She was also the girl who traded sister #1 a pile of writing paper [we used to trade it at school] and an empty vanilla essence bottle [it smelled lovely] for her three library cards. Hers, when combined with my four cards, enabled me to borrow seven books at a time from our local library. This reduced my trips to the library to twice a week…
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