The Muse

Back in October I decided to take part in National Novel Writing Month. I didn’t finish. Most people would be disappointed but I was elated. The book in my mind had started to form chapters.
For years characters and their lives strutted through my mind. Demanding my attention and when receiving it they shied away. Cheek.

In October my muse appeared and my ideas came to fruition. Despite life stresses and struggles. Anyone with a mental health illness knows how hard it can be to function day to day. Being able to push through that AND produce thousands of words with ideas for more is a triumph.

My muse slunk away when real life reared up.  CHRISTMAS.  It was approaching and my muse couldn’t compete.

She reappeared today and gave me a title for my 2nd book in the Acacia May series. A tad cheeky as book 1 is still untitled.

I’m glad she’s back!
Really glad.

Struggling

It’s happening again. My creativity is constipated. My muse has buggered off on holiday and despite having several great ideas in my head, putting them down on paper isn’t happening.

That time you sit and write, only to read back a load of absolute rubbish, which you delete anyway, because lets face it, it doesn’t make sense to anyone, not even you!

That time you sit to write, only to find that even though you have lots of words floating around in your head, they refuse to be plucked out of your mind and be restrained into paper format. It’s as if they’re saying “bitch, if you take one step closer I will stab you with this rusty fork!” and so you leave it be, because who wants to be stabbed by a rusty fork. No thank you.

So today will mostly be working on, talking down my words with the skills of a trained hostage negotiator, in the hope that I can produce some words and not be stabbed by a rusty fork, and begging my muse to come back from her holidays!