Tonight, June 7, I’ll be at Downtown Beaverton’s First Friday, the city’s monthly celebration of art and craft and live entertainment and food that takes place in Beaverton’s core downtown area. Look for me (and two other local authors) at Beaverton Sub Station (12248 SW Broadway) from 5-8p, selling and signing copies of The Mighty Quinn, trying to be heard above the surrounding bands, or just chucking it all and joining the “improvisational, neo-tribal belly dance troupe” Mandala, who will be entertaining, educating and empowering the sisterhood of undulating torsos (and scaring the old folks barbequing at the Beaverton Masonic Lodge) from 6-7p.
No, I don’t know why we’re doing this at a sub shop, except for the inherent connection in most people’s minds between fine sandwiches and fine literature.
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Department of Your Tax Dollars At Work
Unless in the past couple of days you have been driven mad by the cellular-disrupting touch of a Kalandan or caught between dimensions in Tholian Web, it’s likely you heard or read something about the Star Trek parody video that the IRS produced for a 2010 training conference.
I’m all over anyone producing any kind of Star Trek parody for any reason, but using taxpayer’s money? And really, for 50k, couldn’t they at least have gotten a better Spock wig? 
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I am driven by a wonderful muse called alimony.
An e-versation earlier in the week with the delightful Desiree Bussiere, Scarletta Press’s Director of Publicity, was a spark for one of my I haven’t thought of this in years memories. Further fanning the spark was one of the questions submitted to me by a reporter for the Hillsboro Tribune reporter, who is planning to do a story on The Mighty Quinn.
Whether you’re a writer who does 20 interviews per month or one Q & A every ten years, you will, always and eventually, be asked some version of, “How do you write?” or “Can you describe your inspiration and/or writing process?”
The response to that kind of question, if answered truthfully, will likely be…well…not very interesting. Writing fiction involves little drama, no wand-waving…how many cinema-worthy images are there of someone thinking, and then moving their fingers rapidly across a keyboard? The translation of a story from imagination to page, while often exhilarating for the writer, is a snorefest to watch. Thus, I think, the tendency to embellish the response.
I’d like to hitch a ride on a Star Trek-worthy time warp device of some sort that would transport me back in time so that I could slap the first pretentious author who decided to like the concept of the Muse with that of literary creation. As in, a True Author one must follow The Muse, or wait until she Muse calls or “strikes” before one can be inspired to write.
For those of you needing a Greek mythology, primer, The Muses were the daughters of Zeus  and Mnemosyne , who presided over various arts and sciences.
I was inspired to compose a list of alternative muses one day, after reading a precious interview with a precious author who complained of the agonies of being enslaved to the Muse and thus was unable to write, seeing as how Ms. Muse had not deigned to inspire him since he’d written his bestseller. 
Yes, a “real” author writes only “when the muse” strikes…and makes sure the Muse strikes every working day, just after breakfast.
name of muse presides over the realm(s) of
Erato love poetry & mime
Euterpe lyric poetry
Calliope epic poetry
Polyhymnia sacred song
Robyn’s Modern Literary Muses
name of muse presides over the realm(s) of
Callosene hardened buttocks
Egonia “no simultaneous submissions” policies
Emotia romance novels
Ennuinia free verse
Erratica copy editors
Dyspepsia the submissions process
Hyperbolene writing workshops, seminars and “how to” classes
Monotonene political correctness (anybody’s)
Polymorphia M. F. A. programs in Fiction/Creative Writing
Twerpsichore writer’s support groups
Here is an icon of your muse: a picture of your butt in front of your desk. That’s what it takes. Your muse is showing up and doing the work. Park your bonbons in your chair (or better yet, stand at your ergonomic adjustable desk ) and get to it. You are the Muse, you are the Master…hmmm. Does that make you what kind of master?
Whatever the realm over which you preside, may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
 For a mere ten bucks worth of taxpayers blood, sweat and tears you can get a Spock wig with hair, not a plastic toupee, geesh.
 as in a conversation via email. You knew that.
 El Queso Grande of the Greek Gods.
 The goddess of memory, a realm that must have sucked for the wife of a Greek God who loves them lady-gods – and select mortal women – every chance he got.
 The drinking problem he’d developed on his book tour had nothing to do with it.