muse: voice exercises

[coronaviridae]

Talk to me.

I can't. I'm busy as all hell, and I don't have time to screw around with this.

You will, because I say you will.

And why does it matter to you? What the hell's caught your interest now? Why the torment, muse?

It's called a character interrogation for a reason. I need to cement your voice.

I'm nearly a year old! Why are you bothering with this?

Because you're drifting. You started rather plain-spoken, you know. I've got the stories and logs to indicate it. Now you're getting more verbose, a little less direct. It's worrying me. I don't like the ecliptical bent you've taken.

That's your fault, you know. You made me this way, you let me grow. You're the verbophile here; you have the passion for sesquipedalian words.

I know.

So why not stop it? You've already got a decent explanation for why I've drifted from plainspeech to the more flowery stuff; you can come up with something as a reason for me to drift back.

This is true.

So do it. Focus on your writing. You can still be elegant without sacrificing brevity.

Then I will. What do I do about the rest of them, though? You're the loudest influence in my mind; everything I do seems to lead back to you.

This isn't my fault. It's yours. Branch out. Break the obsession. I'll be fine; I won't die for want of care. Learn your own way.

All right.

muse