I don't know that I have a "Muse." I have ideas. I have inspiration. But it never comes from the same place. With my last novel fabulous waiters were my inspiration. And lately, nothing seems to be enough to get my fingers clacking again.
I am going through a very difficult loss, and he seems to have taken my desire to write with him. I'm sure it will come back, but to be honest right now I couldn't care less about getting anything new on paper. Nothing has been strong enough, no muse, no idea, no anything has made me think "Hey, there is a story in that."
I guess it is difficult to write with a broken heart when it doesn't come along with any anger. When I am mad, I can write three novels and decimate many lives in it. But when I am sad...I can't even write any bad poetry.
So if I do have a muse, and he is a tricky little bastard if I do, I think that my mood can squash him far too easily for my taste. I would prefer to stick to looking at yummy boys and using that as a launch pad for stories. So much better than depending on an invisible man whispering into my ear.