A Bad Week on the Writing Front

“My muse is a big fat slacker.”

“Don’t SAY that!”

“Why not?  It’s true.  She’s a total slacker.  I get up on Monday, I get to my desk, I’ve got my hot, tasty beverage, I’ve got a deadline.  I’m all set, and where IS she?”

“Well, you know there was that bridge shut down on I-94…”

“I know about the bridge shut down.  So I called.  You know where she was?  She was still in BED!  She complained I woke her up!”

“Well, you know, you did have her working all weekend…”

“I had a deadline!  And she got extra cappacino!”

“You’ve got to cut her some slack.  She’s a muse, a font of creativity.  You can’t expect her to work on a nine-to-five schedule.”

“I did cut her some slack.  Monday, I let it go.  I did other stuff.  But Tuesday, she’s still not there.  She said she had to go to the spa.  She simply couldn’t plot the next chapter without a treatment.  So I let that go.  Wednesday, now, Wednesday she didn’t even bother to answer the phone!  I left about a billion messages and she didn’t even bother to answer!”

“But you can’t complain!  You’re a writer!  You need her.”

“I need this last chapter done.”

“But you can’t bitch at her.  She’ll go off an find some twenty-something guy with a chin tuft and tattoos and give him all her ideas.”

“There is no twenty-something guy living who wants her ideas.  She’s strictly a girly muse.”

“Okay, buy I hear Stephanie Meyers is trolling for a new muse…”

“Oh, God.  I hadn’t thought about that.”

“See?  You can’t be too careful.”

“But what the hell good is she if she doesn’t show up when I need her?  I can’t sit around waiting for her to get her butt out of bed.”

“You just have to be nice to her.  Chocolate.  Flowers.  Aromatherapy.”

“What part of the word deadline don’t you understand?  I HAVE to get this done.”

“What else are you going to do?  You can’t work without a muse.”

“If this is the way she wants to play it, maybe I need a new muse.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?  She’s gonna run out on me, I can find somebody else.”

“And where do you think you’re going to find another muse?”

“Where’s anybody find anything?  Craigslist.”

“Oh.  Dear.”





A Bad Week on the Writing Front — 6 Comments

  1. Well, you can try my muse. He’s a time traveling Scot in a kilt who gets involved in some historical clan fight more often than not, and when he comes home, I’ll have to patch him up. Then he gets drunk on my Whisky and comes up with the most crazy ideas (his latest involved a prince turned pirate). I don’t think he’s even *heard* about deadlines (just well I don’t have any right now), and you can never phone him because he doesn’t take his cell into those clan fights.

  2. I dragged my muse on a forced march through the new chapter this week. I don’t think she liked it, and I know I didn’t (revision is going to play a large part in this section of the book, I can see). I told her it would go easier for both of us if she’d just cooperate, but she kept muttering something about Girl Scout cookies and cake decoration. As if I don’t hear enough about those elsewhere. I promised her flowers and chocolates, maybe a shopping trip to the mall, but she just sat there, pouting.

    Muses these days. What can you do?

  3. Mine is ADD as %!##, and I can’t blame the poor thing because she was on that same walk and probably got chomped by a neighbor to Kat’s Bane. My problem is she wants to work on everything, simultaneously, and won’t let me in on the new system.

    The results are excellent, but the system is driving me nuts. At this rate, ten things will finish at once in two years.

    (I’d better not say that too loudly, or she’ll start planning the party….)

  4. Oh yeah, mine’s ADD, too. Must be all those time jumps. He can never make up his mind about the Romans, or an alternate 12th century, or maybe some Merovingians.

    And he loves trilogies. *sigh*

  5. Mine is in a deep conference with his tailor–apparently his last warddrobe ended up in the drink after the earthquake drove him into that harbor he knows isn’t healthy for him (wrong last name, feuds, you know the drill). Insurance? What’s that? Plus, his idea for paying for all this consists of lining up a few good friends, some booze, and trying to remember the rules for fan-tan.

    Phooey. I’ll put a mechanic’s lien on his ship once the repairs are all done. He’ll pay attention to me _then_.