Chelsea can’t help but make me laugh. Her conversation with her muse is a hoot. Enjoy.
“No, Love, yeh can’ wrie-that!”
“That bid abou’ ‘ow sad yer life is. I mean, people ken only take so much abou’ yeh ea’in’ yer toffee in the closet.”
I sit back, stuck. But, I felt inspired to write because I felt depressed. Wasn’t that-
“No, Love. T’ain’t ‘inspired’ – leastaways, not by me.”
Huh. Well… I had another epiphany, back when–
“Definitely not.” Harumph. “We’ll not be bringing politics out again.“
“No ‘buts’ about it, young lady. No self-respecting writer would name a rant as ‘inspiration,’ either.”
I face another dead end as my cursor blinks in an empty page. What else can I write? Maybe poetry?
“Shtop rright therrre!”
But I only just–
“I-yuh know what you thought to do, and I’ll have none of it! Poetrrry must flow frrom an experrienced poet, one bending a keen earh to…
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