Bitch Azz Muse

I'm pissed at my muse, today.

She's suffering from PMS or whatever disease muses get when they feel like messing with your mind.

Today, on the way to get my hair cut (still hangin' at the barber shop, yah!)my muse kept sending me snippets of inspiration for my WIP. As my fellow writers can attest, this is like manna from heaven. When it starts falling you have to be ready to catch or it pops into non-existence like soap bubbles.

So I'd start driving and the muse would whisper in my ear, furiously. I mean the stuff she was passing on was gold. Gold, I tell ya! Of course, I couldn't get to a stop light fast enough to capture the exact phrasing and nuance of the snippets.

I'd get to a stoplight and scribble madly in my notebook. Yes, I always keep a notebook nearby for just these types of run-ins with Miss Thing-Thing Sometimey Muse. No sooner than I'd stop and pick up the pen then my brain froze and the muse stopped talking!

So traffic would begin moving and...you guessed it she started blabbing away. She's so eloquent when I'm driving and can't get near a pen. Damn her!

So I tried to trick her. I kept the pen in my hand and tried scribbling as I drove.

Not joking. I was seriously driving at like 50 mph and writing.

But being in the mood she was in, that didn't work. Also, I figure she doesn't wish death on me, just major irritation. So she wouldn't float any gold bits if the car was in motion while I held a pen.

Finally, I gave up. Yes, I risked losing the golden images flashing through my mind just so I could arrive at my destination safely. Foolish girl that I am.

Instead, I let her run her mouth, pretended I wasn't listening and then when I got to the barber shop, I ran in and snatched the notebook out of my purse and captured as much as I could remember. And the barber says - I shit you not - "Hey, what you writing in your diary today?"

Look, there's nothing wrong with maintaining a diary or journal. I journaled until about five years ago. But just 'cause the little lady is writing something down doesn't mean she's Dear Diarying.

How come he didn't ask if I was preparing for a big presentation or working out a formula for the cure to cancer?

He's a nice guy. I'm just giving him shit.

Anyway, I scribbled out a few more pages and feeling satisfied, put the notebook away. I think the barber shop scares my muse. She never uttered a word the entire time we were there.

She's been quiet the rest of the day. But I'm planning a dinner for my hubby's birthday, tonight, so I can't really focus on girl-talk with her now anyway.

On another note - this WIP is in first person POV.

Why is it that when I read a first person I love it? But when I try to write it using only one person's POV it sounds like a whole bunch of blah, blah, blah.

It's a mental block I'm trying to bull doze so I can get this book in motion.

And, just when I thought single first person was my only issue, just got feedback from my eddy on the last book I wrote, which was a revolving first person - one I thought I had nailed. She said she love love loved it BUT....yes, the infamous but (luv ya, Stace). But the revolving POV and a few other things could use some work.

Actually I'm not that bummed. I mean, yeah, of course I wanted her to say, "We love this book. Here take this trunk full of cash."

But, I wrote the book in two weeks. It floated out of my head when me and my muse were real tight-like. No surprise that it needs a little finesseing.

So now I have this WIP to jump start and the other book to finesse. If my muse is listening - girl, don't take the title of the blog personally. I'm just saying, cut a sister some slack when she's driving.

Or at least whisper slower!