The Hated Muse

Nora Roberts once commented that you couldn't wait for your muse to show up, you had to hunt the bitch down and beat her into submission (I tried to find the exact quote because it's funny, but Google failed me). I'm off work for ten days and had all the intentions in the world of writing, but unfortunately, someone forgot to tell my muse that and she's been off in a bar somewhere, no doubt drunk and picking up ugly men. Several times I've hunted her down but I've decided that not only does she need to be beaten into submission as Queen Nora says, but she needs a good dose of Ritalin for what seems like her short attention span these days. I've been able to round up The Bitch for maybe a chapter but then she's off again, doing something else while I stare at a blank page wondering where do my characters go next. I hate this part of writing. Nothing seems to help any more and I'm beginning to doubt myself and my desire to be a writer. Yes, I have a lot going on my life, but others can write through the stress of daily life, why can't I?

So here I am, once again chasing my muse around the room, trying to get her to focus but she's more slippery than a greased hairless chihuahua and about as much help as my seventeen year old daughter (who IS the center of the universe in her opinion) and it's getting difficult. So here I sit, listening to Harry Connick Jr to get inspired (and irritate the Center of The Universe just for fun), and instead of writing, I play Roller Coaster Tycoon. If Nora were here, she'd be appalled....and more than likely beat me into submission, which is probably what I need. I'd gladly give up my seventeen year old to channel Nora about now (then again, when she's in one of her moods, I'd give my seventeen year old up for pretty much anything)

Once again, the muse has escaped her restraints. Now, if only she'd come home with someone who looked like Roarke.....