Every now and then I make it my business to be organized with pens and notebooks nearby waiting to be utilized when genius strikes. But, for reasons that can never be figured out, the muse refuses to visit me when I am prepared with pen and paper. It's only when there is no pen in sight and the notebooks have evaporated into writer's oblivion that the ideas start to flow. I try with all of my might to retain even a small sliver of the perfect prose that only moments ago flowed with astonishing clarity, but unless I am lucky enough to find a pen and paper or tape recorder, the great moment is but a distant memory never to be retrieved exactly like it was conceived before.
I think I have finally figured out a way to trick the muse so that it does not continue to evade me when I am prepared to capture its arrival. I now keep a pen and paper in various corners of each room, so that a moment's notice when the muse decides to materialize, I have only to run to the nearest pen and paper station to eternally capture the masterpiece that will undoubtedly go through many metamorphoses. But, at least I have managed to transcribe the original words that I believed were no less than perfect at the time they were sent to me by my muse.
