This is called, "writing". An excerpt from Ryan North's Dinosaur Comics.

Thank you, Ryan North’s Dinosaur Comics, for expressing my innermost thoughts when I cannot.

My inner muse is having an identity crisis. Does it want to go serious, or stay absurd? Does it want to make longer stories, or shorter? Does it give two shits about the opinion of readers, or does it write for itself?

I think I’ll give my inner muse a name. His name is Jake.

Jake has grown up over the years. I think he’s in his rebellious teens now, and he’s trying all sorts of different things without my permission. It’s hard to get him to focus on anything when he’s stoned out of his mind on the various drugs of Drama, Humour, Fluff, Romantic Subplots, and Alternate Histories.

I suppose his next true direction depends on the next lightning strike of inspiration. We’ll have to see. Nothing like a good idea to shock his entire body into some semblance of maturity.

Muses these days. You know?