By R.J. Harlick
Agatha Christie fueled the muse by munching apples in the bathtub, Jack Kerouac typed On the Road on an endless scroll. James Joyce laid on his stomach in bed, wearing a white coat, holding a blue pencil. Are there tricks you use to get yourself into that space where everything just flows onto the page?
Maybe if I dyed my hair purple and wore fluffy pink rabbit slippers with scarlet paisley tights and flung a feather boa around my neck, the muse might flow. Or what about a bottl...
Published on May 09, 2017 00:30