Today is my rotating day off. I awoke at 5:30 AM and forced myself to go back to bed. This normally doesn’t work, but today I fell asleep until 7:30. The two hours in between were strange. I dreamed about the short stories and micro fiction I’ve been working on.
When I finally got dressed, I headed for the coffee pot. “I know you’re here.”
The old pit bull thumped his tail on the couch; always a sign he’s happy with a guest.
Lorelei* stood and opened the door to let the dog out. “It’s not like I’m hiding or anything. I was giving you time to get dressed.” She had on a knee length dress today. A good omen for improving weather.
“I haven’t seen you face to face for some time. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s your novel. You’ve really neglected it in the last months.”
I poured my coffee and dished up dog food for my old friend. “I worked on it over the weekend.”
“I am aware, but it’s been slow going lately. You’ve been writing micro fiction and short stories instead. Is there anything I can do?”
“As a matter of fact, I could use an idea for a fantasy that fits the parameters of a short story. I have an idea, but it may be more novel length.”
She filled her own cup and sat at the table. “Writing these is important to purge your ideas. They aren’t bad stories, but you have too many ideas right now. I need you to concentrate on the novel.”
“I have a couple shorts that qualify as urban fantasy, but I really want one that’s more classic. If I put these shorts out, I want at least one that illustrates each genre I write.”
She put a manicured nail to my lips. “Shhh, just listen. It’s a good idea, and I even like the stories. You need to focus on completing each project. Your novel, The Playground, is the oldest project now. I want to know that you have a plan to finish it. Ideas are fun, but they don’t matter unless you complete the projects.”
I leaned back and lifted my cup. “I’ve finished my slog through the middle. It’s time to race headlong to the big train wreck, then the end of act two. I purposely stopped after the first sentence of the exciting stuff.”
She pushed a brunette curl out of her eyes. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s an inspiration issue. I can dwell on it all week and race through the next session.”
“I can appreciate that. Does that mean you’re into it again?”
“I was always into it. My personal challenge is to write three seperate stories that only converge at the end. That makes it more difficult to move everyone into place for when they finally meet. I have it figured out now, but I had to give up on a few ideas.”
She stood and kissed my forehead, then rinsed her cup. “Good. Concentrate on the novel. I’m sure a fantasy idea will come along.”
The kitchen lights backlit her to make her dress transparent. “I may be getting a fantasy idea right now.”
Lorelei smiled. It is kind of a thing we do.
“I’m burning some vacation time next week. I’m bound to find some writing time in there somewhere.”
“I’m leaving. I may stop by the writing cabin next week to check on you.”
I watched her leave and took out my iPad. I wanted to finish reading Beginning of a Hero. Later on, I picked up a copy of the new Hobbit DVD. Nope, no fantasy for this author, no siree.
* Lorelei is my Muse. (She makes me capitalize it.)