What do you give your Muse for Christmas?

Mine requires a great deal of chocolate, preferably Alter Eco, but she'll take Hershey's in a pinch. So this year I gave my Muse Alter Eco Dark Chocolate with Almonds, as well as Dagoba Xocolatl. It's wonderful to watch her stand completely still, every snake frozen in delight, transfixed by the luscious, lingering, delights of the taste and smell of creamy, dark chocolate. When she gets too belligerent or stays away too long, I crack the paper covering of a dark chocolate bar and suddenly my Muse appears, all smiles, every snake drooling over the smell of that candy.

I wrapped the bars of chocolate in gold colored tissue paper and handed them to her, saying, "Thank you."

She smiled. "Shouldn't I be saying thank you for the package?"

"No. I've been thinking about it a lot, and although you can be a serious bitch when you want to be, you do know how to push me in the right direction, regardless of whether or not I want to go there."

"Security is over-rated. Creative people need risks to stay productive."

"You're right. So thank you for pushing me into starting a publishing company. And thank you for forcing me to keep working on my novel. And thank you for dressing up like Eddie."

She took the package of chocolate and sniffed it, then grinned even bigger. "You're welcome." Then she ripped the paper into shreds and devoured the chocolate like a vampire feeding on fresh blood.

Muses are a gift, and a curse. They drive us, empower us, force us to create and then demand we take the applause and criticism. They build our obsessions and feed our desires, sometimes keeping us up at night with fevers and delusions. They make us hungry for things we've never imagined and will never find. Maybe that's why so many writes like to drink?

Without my Muse, I would be calm and safe. I would be empty. So bring on the next obsession and hunger! I can take it! As long as I have enough chocolate to keep her under control.