I have had a run in with a few interesting people these couple of weeks, they remind me of my students when I used to be under the thumb of the man. A few of them were LARPers (Live-Action Roleplayers, for the less subculturaly inclined), a hobby that I used to enjoy in my younger days, one of them even punched a tree, they seem very dedicated to their narrative. They invited me to join them, but I declined, I don’t have the stamina I used to for activities like that. I wished them luck though.

The local comic con was also this week, I tend to go and browse my old favourites, seek inspiration and meet young writers. There was these few dressed in interesting cosplay, only one of which I recognized. They seemed to be from the popular superhero animated series My Savior Highschool, or something similar, though one of their friends had a mortarboard on and graduation robes, much be a new character in the recent episodes. Admittedly I haven’t caught up to the show in a while. They didn’t seem to know where they were, so I told them to be careful on their way home. Youngsters nowadays have a little too much fun, don’t they?

In either case, I will think of them as I write, they really did seem like they were from another world, or maybe I’m just getting old. I am sure they are artists themselves, with a sincerity to their craft that’s rare in our mundane world.

Now every writer will tell you that their characters will more often than not take on a life of their own. We are less puppeteers controlling the every action of our creations, and more shepherds. Shepherds who may try to steer their flock one way or another, but who must work with their flock’s natural tendencies lest they never get anywhere. And sometimes, of course, certain characters are not so much as sheep in this analogy, but rather cats.

But still – we are not entirely powerless, usually, and we may still reliably reign our characters in before they get too far out of hand.

Sometimes, though, we are blessed with a character – a muse, I will call her - who truly takes on a life of her own. Who comes to you in dreams and asks – no, demands that she be included in your work. Who whispers secrets and desires and stories to you while you sleep. Stories which grip you so tightly that you cannot let go.

I was lucky enough to have been gifted one such muse, my friends. I swear I have never met her before and yet somehow I feel as if I have known her my whole life. She was not born directly into my Magnum Opus, but I have found a place for her within it: she will be the Empress. I do not think she would have accepted any less of a title, let me tell you! Dignified, powerful, respected – yes, that suits her.

But, as quickly as she arrived, she left me again. Such is the way of the imagination, I suppose. Still, her memory lives on in my writing.