As a creative person, I have a muse who shows up whenever she feels like it. Not during business hours, not when I’m at my desk, not when I’m caffeinated and prepared like a responsible adult. No — she prefers 3 AM. And when she arrives, she brings an idea so sharp that I lie there until 6 AM, terrified I’ll lose it if I fall back asleep. Eventually, I leap out of bed like a hostage escaping captivity, just to write it down.
One night last week, she reminded me that I need to add a fun and loving little story into HELD — something about Sam’s Club. And of course, I knew exactly where she was going with this. After all, I was there. I was the one walking down that aisle. I was the one who, in a moment of pure marital mischief, flashed my husband. And he was the one who said, “I love it, but so does security watching on the cameras right now.”
This is the problem with my muse: she remembers everything. Every ridiculous moment, every impulsive decision, every story I thought I’d tucked away in the “maybe later” file. And she has no hesitation about waking me up at 3 AM to say, “Hey, remember that time you turned Sam’s Club into a PG‑13 experience? Put that in the book.”
This is where I’ve decided my muse needs HR oversight. Not because she’s bad at her job — she’s actually excellent — but because she has absolutely no respect for boundaries, schedules, or the concept of “normal hours.” She behaves like an employee who delivers brilliant work but only after committing several workplace violations.
For example, she will not attend a single meeting during daylight. She refuses to show up when I’m sitting at my desk, coffee in hand, ready to work like a functioning adult. But at 3 AM? Oh, she’s wide awake, caffeinated, and ready to discuss Sam’s Club flashbacks like it’s a quarterly review.
If HR ever saw her attendance record, they’d faint. If they saw her communication style, they’d quit. And if they saw the ideas she brings at ungodly hours, they’d probably promote her — but only after writing her up for harassment.
So yes, my muse is talented. She’s brilliant, actually. But she also behaves like an employee who needs a Performance Improvement Plan. A gentle one, but still — a PIP is a PIP.
Effective immediately, she is encouraged (not required, because let’s be honest) to:
- Attempt to show up during daylight at least once per fiscal quarter
- Refrain from scheduling mandatory creative breakthroughs between 2 AM and 5 AM
- Stop whispering ideas only when I’m half asleep
- Provide at least a 30‑second warning before dropping a Sam’s Club flashback into my consciousness
- Acknowledge that inspiration is not, in fact, an emergency
Will she follow any of this? Absolutely not. But HR says I have to document it, so here we are.
And the truth is, I wouldn’t fire her even if I could. She’s inconvenient, unpredictable, and wildly unprofessional — but she’s also the reason my stories breathe. Even the Sam’s Club ones.