“ But like balloons, they were excessively buoyant, and if you weren't careful, they floated away. ”
A philosophy professor at my college, whose baby became enamored of the portrait of David Hume on a Penguin paperback, had the cover laminated in plastic so her daughter could cut her teeth on the great thinker.
~ Anne Fadiman
Muses are fickle, and many a writer, peering into the voice, has escaped paralysis by ascribing the creative responsibility to a talisman: a lucky charm, a brand of paper, but most often a writing instrument. Am I writing well? Thank my pen. Am I writing badly? Don't blame me blame my pen. By such displacements does the fearful imagination defend itself.
Pen-bereavement is a serious matter.
If you truly love a book, you should sleep with it, write in it, read aloud from it, and fill its pages with muffin crumbs.