A Muse to amuse

Sometimes, the Muse climbs up my back, parks her cute little butt on my shoulder and starts to whisper in my ear.
If I have time, I can listen, mull over what she says, play with the ideas and then weave the story.
If I am really lucky, I can get it written down.

Alas, at times I can’t concentrate on the Muse. And when I finally have the time to think it over and write it down, the story idea is incomplete. No matter what I do, I just can’t get the ideas to weave together.
And you can’t force a Muse.
And I am stuck with a fragment…