Or, What happens when your muse stops being polite, and starts getting real
So remember how I talked about not focusing on writing for the next month because of various other time commitments? Yeah, about that….
Muse is annoyed with me. He is insisting that we have, god damn it, a standing date every morning at 5:30 a.m. He doesn’t understand why I want to take a break. He thinks I am breaking up with him not going on sabbatical.
Apparently I have done my job too well in training my mind that my earliest waking hours are for writing. And not blog writing but real writing.
I feel anxious and upset at the prospect of not pulling open a document and putting some words down on a story.
So I guess I will go back to finishing the novel, with the understanding that it is ONLY to be worked on between the hours of 4 and 7 a.m. during the week and 5 and 9 on the weekends.
Now watch that contrary bastard blast into my head at full throttle every night that I am supposed to be sewing. In this case, I might really complain about 4000 word nights if they mean I don’t get to mask the way I want to mask on Mardi Gras Day.
But, for now, let’s see if I can’t just write the last 10,000 words of a 120K story 500 at at time….