The snow is falling hard outside, freezing the roads, scrambling the cable, murdering my cell signal, essentially ridding me of all distractions.  I sigh as my laptop sits with a million open browsers and one blank Word document.  Hotmail is empty, my livejournal role-playing community is silent, and I’ve listened to all my favorite songs today.  I stare, trying to find something to do.  My mother offers reading as she closes my door, but I’m not in the mood.

A rapping begins on my wall, a request to enter.  I knock back, allowing her in.  She’s dressed in an “I <3 Vamps” shirt and faded blue jeans.  Barefoot as usual, she hugs me and I notice her hair is in a mass of ringlets instead of her usual pixie cut.  

“Must be nice to just grow hair on a whim.” I mumble.  She runs around the room like a flash, a huge, mischievous grin on her face.  

“I know I’ve been MIA, but it took me a long time to find your next idea. And I knew you could handle the little details without me.  You finished the chapter didn’t you?” She pats me on the shoulder, leaving the scent of fallen rain in the air.  I nod reluctantly, not wanting to admit I really did miss her.  She’s wiggling in the chair next to me like she has to pee, her eyes dancing.  

“So, what’s this brilliant idea?” Her excitement is contagious and I begin to feel eager.  She bites at her hot pink fingernails and glances behind me.  I turn slowly, scared to really look.  There he was; the most handsome, sexy man I’d ever seen.  

“Where did you find him?” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off the stranger.  She jumps from her seat, hops to him, taking his arm..  He smiles down at her then smiles at me.

“Isn’t he gorgeous??  You wanted a new character in your book and here he is.  You like him?” Her voice is musical with joy.  I can’t help but be pleased.

“Yes, I love him.  But how do I make this work?” She giggles as she puts my hands on my keyboard.

“Make him human, document him.  If you do that, you get to keep him.  He’ll find his place.” She tugs at him and like a well trained dog he follows.  The more I write, the more alive he seems.  Soon, after several pages, he’s sitting next to me, actively adding his own humor in.  I find him quite charming, sweet, and funny.  He confesses that he snores, hates being interrupted while reading, and has no patience for waiting in line.  His eyes, eyebrows, and smile become more expressive.  And I realize he likes to talk with his hands.  Hours pass as I watch his transformation, thrilled.  Before I know it, he’s moved in, getting along well with the list of other personalities featured in my writing and most importantly, the plot.  

She watches with an air of accomplishment.  Her chin rests in her hand as she leans on the table, her feet dancing beneath her.  His eyes change color frequently, and I figure she’s trying to find the shade she likes most.  Finally settling on green just before it starts making me dizzy, she reaches out her hand to him.  

“My name is Issy, and yours?” He smiles widely, the kind that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, but says nothing.  I stammer to find a good enough title for him, but find nothing original.  

“Jay?” I say, finally resorting to a cut down version of the name of the actor he most reminds me of.  She nods, pleased.

“That’ll do for now.  It’s a pleasure.” She winks, ever the boy-crazy imp.  He looks to me with curiosity.  

“Do you like it?” My voice comes out weak.  He jovially places his arm around my shoulders.

“I do. But how did she get her name?” He asks.  I laugh, remembering her first bounce into my world.  She woke me at four in the morning when I was in High School and jumped on my bed until I consented to writing her thoughts.  I liked her wild blue hair and the many rings on her fingers.  She was hyper but able to inspire me into feeling her energy.  She’s still much like that today, except now she’s experimenting with my fashion and constantly telling me I need to be more original.  

“She’s my muse, my inspiration.  I thought to call her Blythe, a name I really like…” She groans, interrupting my story, which makes me laugh.  

“It’s too depressing, so I told her to call me Issy, short for Inspiration, what she had called me when talking to her friends.  But I wanted a real name, not “Inspiration”.  She finishes for me, still ogling him.  

I finish writing his description, sketching rough doodles of his features for future reference.  Occasionally, she pitched in a thought, changing his clothes or hair; constantly making him stand, pose and such.  Thank God he found it amusing.  After he was fully developed she decided he was done for the day.  

Snapping her fingers, he vanishes into my laptop, becoming words and sentences.  I’ll never get used to her doing that.  She dances around my room making me giggle and envy her for her ability to just be.  

“Let’s listen to this.” She grabs my Zune and makes a weird mix of Paramore, Plumb, U2, and Carrie Underwood, a mix that would confuse anyone.  But, as usual, each song inspires more ideas and more writing.   Finally, around 2 A.M, she plops down on my bed, seeming exhausted.

“How about you wear something new tomorrow….er… today.  Like this shirt, with those pants, “She taps her chin with her finger, thinking. “And that pair of shoes.  You need to look like a rock star today.”

“Please, all my clothes look like they belong to a 2nd grade school teacher.” I wave her off.

“Well then, you need a new job, and to get a new wardrobe.  I’m sick of you looking frumpy.”  She grins wide to assure I take it as a joke.  

“You’re right, I’ll start first thing in the morning.” I concede with a smile.  

“Good, I’ll see you then!” She jumps off the mattress and runs toward the door, vanishing before she gets to it.  I snuggle under my blankets, thinking of the new character I’d met today and excited to see what or who she brings me tomorrow.