When I was going through some old computer files at my parents' house a few weeks ago, I stumbled on this little dialogue I wrote during high school. Here's an excerpt... It must have been around 2 a.m. when I heard The Voice. "Whispered words well up within."
"Excuse me?," I thought out loud.
"When wisdom comes, we ne'er ask why," she continued.
"What are you talking about and why won't you let me sleep?," I wondered.
"You dare question your muse?," the Voice asked, suddenly slipping into a sarcastic, edgy tone.
"My muse? It's 2 a.m. and you expect me to write poetry? This is so typical."
"Typical of what?"
"Typical like the days when I'm trying to take a Chemistry test and feel a sudden urge to write a sonnet. Like when I’m talking on the phone and start to rhyme. Like the time…"
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
"Maybe your timing is off, because I can never write when I have to, but when I don't, I suddenly feel like I've swallowed a thesaurus."It continues for several more pages, but you get the gist...