MusingsI don't plot. Not only does it rub against my nature as a writer, but plotting before I start a story would be a scary proposition. Facing the fact that I have no story to tell, not really, and proving that fact to myself in outline form, would likely prevent me from ever writing again. So I type "Chapter One" and dive in with hopes high and illusions intact.
But there do come times (several of them, each day) when I'd love to have more control over meeting up with whichever muse it is who waves her musey-wand or sprinkles her musey-dust--or whatever it is that muses do--and to arrange for her to hand over the answers to the questions what happens next? and what does it mean? with a little more regularity.
I've discovered that my muse tends to visit me in the shower. There must be something about the isolation and sensory deprivation, or the white noise of water splashing on tile and gurgling down the drain, or maybe it's massaging the brain case that does it--whatever it is, my hair is much cleaner since I've started writing than it's ever been before.
Another place I often get muse-type inspiration is in the car. Which is handier than in the shower, because I can usually pull over to the side of the road and jot down some notes. (My husband has grown quite accustomed to pulling over to the side of the road. I think he enjoys humoring my eccentricities. And my eccentricities probably give him something interesting to discuss with his golfing buddies out on the course.)
Where and when does your muse visit you? I'd really like to know, so I can see if I can catch up with mine there, too.