Moved to new URL

Please redirect any bookmarks or links to Mikey’s Muse so they point to our new location –!

Now that I’ve done my major technical fiddling I’ll quit procrastinating and get back to writing.


Primal Screams

I am a proponent of many different methods of stress relief including meditation, yoga, chanting, rhythm induced trances, boxing and primal screaming.

Primal screaming takes the least amount of thought. There is nothing intellectual, no out of body experience, no hallucinations, no touching the face of whomever you want to touch – it is pure animal.

There are two things I want to tell you about this technique:

1)      It is sudden. It is over as soon as you run out of breath. You must let go completely. The scream emanates from the lowest recesses of your bowels. When you are finished you flop down and enjoy complete freedom from whatever pressure caused you distress.
2)      Don’t do it in your cubicle during business hours.

I’ve got to go now – the people from HR are here to do the exit interview and escort me out. I’ll log in later…

Mikey :}

Dark Secrets

Silence! Not a sound but the heavy breathing of mom and dad asleep. I slip quietly out of my bed to check my stack of books for an interesting title. “One Kitten Too Many” sounds right. I pull up my Tonka truck with the blue spotlight and start reading but remain alert and poised to leap into bed if anybody stirs.

Fast forward 55 years. Lights out, glow from the monitors lights the desk; the keyboard light illuminates the keys. Ears straining for any noise I pick up the comforting sound of Bejeweled Blitz. Tinkling shapes signal a few minutes for reading and writing. Twitter is running like a vertical ticker tape. I’m reading the new entries from followed bloggers. I try to participate in the stream of tweets but I’m distracted by my urge to write.

Words are pouring out. My character must have had a double-shot espresso. I hear the heavy tread on the stairs. I try to fire off a quick “g’night” on Twitter as I minimize TweetDeck. I click close on Word and ‘save changes’. The browser remains – set to Sky News. I start reading the stories.

Her silhouette in the door blocks the light from the hall. The shadow of four Poms in her arms signals its bedtime.

“IT’S TIME FOR BED!” she announces, with the authority of Nurse Ratched.

“What are you doing up here? Wasting more time on that Tupper…Twicker…whatever that stupid thing is?” she says accusingly.

“I’m ready! Be there in a minute.” I reply, avoiding answering any of her questions. I stifle a retort about Bejeweled Blitz.

It’s the same ritual every night. Almost Groundhog’s Day.

She leaves and I bring up the minimized screens, check for last minute tweets, check email for any new followers or comments on my blog posts and reluctantly close everything down.

God help me if she found out I was actually writing stories! She’d have a hissy fit! She thinks reading is a waste of time and writing is even worse. She’s afraid that I’ll embarrass her or the family, or give away some family secret.

But similar to the living books in “Fahrenheit 451” I take my life in my hands and continue to write in secret.

My hope is one day I can actually have something published and she’ll see money coming into her pocket. She might cut me a little slack then – in fact she might become just the opposite and stand over me demanding more stories, novels…more MONEY! If it shuts her up she can have it all. I don’t care about the money I just want to write!

Would you share what type of support you get from your significant other? And was the support different before you were published?

Just curious … and thanks for listening!


I like to start without a plan. I manage to get into something before finally realizing a) I’m doing it wrong or b) it really looks stupid.

My blog startup was no exception. Even when it’s plain as day I can ignore every example around me and plow on. But then an epiphany! Some voice inside my head says “You dummy! What is a blog! It’s not stories! It’s journal entries, real life, happening stuff – get off the toilet and go fix it!”

By the way, that voice might have been Annie. She has provided some valuable editorial assistance for real.

Did the work and now I”m tinkering with the theme.