“So listen to my new post,” I say to my muse, who I’ve been married to for three hundred years.

She puts down her book, and waits patiently while I fiddle with the laptop.

“Okay, here goes,” I say, and begin my latest rendition of Inside the Mind of a Psychiatrist. When I’m done she says, not unkindly, “It’s boring.”

“Boring? How can you say that? Aren’t you interested in psychiatry or the homeless or heroes?”

“I am,” she says. “But I’d like a different slant, something that hasn’t been said hundreds of times by people who are experts.”

“Like who?”

“Like Steve Lopez who writes everyday for a living. He comes up with new ideas all the time.”

“I’m not Steve Lopez.”

“If you want people to love your work and buy your books, make it funny, interesting, different.”

“Jesus,” I say and sit stunned (For the ten-thousandth time in three hundred years). “You don’t take any prisoners.”

“You don’t agree?”

Moments pass. Finally I say, “You’re really annoying.”

“So you agree?”

“It is boring.”

“You want some freshly baked gingerbread cake?” she asks.

“I do. I need some gingerbread cake.”

That night as I drift off to sleep, I know for a fact that I’ll never think of anything new to write. How can anyone be as good as Steve Lopez?

The next morning my next post popped into my head. After my muse listened, she said, “I love it. It’s new, different and interesting.” (You’ll all have to wait to read it.)

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You have any gingerbread cake left?”