In Greek mythology, there are nine goddesses (known as muses), daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, who preside over the arts and sciences:
Calliope – Epic Poetry
Clio – History
Erato – Lyric Poetry
Euterpe – Song and Elegiac Poetry
Melpomene – Tragedy
Polyhymnia – Hymns
Terpsichore – Dance
Thalia – Comedy
Urania – Astronomy
Usually when we think of a muse, we think of a person or a force that is the source of inspiration for a creative person. Sometimes we visualize a fairy-type creature sprinkling us with glittery star dust, which can cause people to think that the idea of a muse as silly, and they balk at the idea of needing a muse to inspire them. They will say something like, “If I waited for a muse to inspire me, I’d never write.”
To me, a muse is a manifestation of your creativity that can make you feel less lonely in the writing process. This manifestation gives you someone to greet when you open the document for your work-in-progress or pick up a pen, someone to vent to or yell at when things aren’t going right.
When I was little, I had an imaginary friend named Ena. As the youngest in my family, and often pushed aside by my siblings, my imaginative (and lonely) mind did the only thing it could to help me to grow, nurture my creativity, and give me a companion I badly needed and craved; it invented a friend for me and only me. I didn’t have to share her with anyone, and she was always there when I needed her. My entire family knew about Ena and embraced the idea of her. They would even ask me about her like, “How is Ena?” And I would be happy to deliver a report.