What, me write?

This one is public domain

I’ve been off my game for a month. Three weekends of company, including the bedroom painting project, plus a business trip that involved a sprained knee and a midnight flight and I need to re-read my story before forging ahead.

I’ve taken on a couple of personal projects, so I may not get new words down until December. This differs from all the writers out there suffering through NaNoWriMo.

I’ve seen some of you diligently reporting your word count. Others are posting why they’re quitting. I know one writer who is finished already.

Writing is my escape from everyday life. My job is stressful enough without adding pressure to my leisure time. I respect the Nano Army, I really do. It’s just not for me.

I have some plot issues I’m struggling with, but there’s a whole sequence to write before then. I may get to it this weekend, I may not. Have faith, I’ll finish it, I always do.

In the meantime, can I interest you in a Greco Roman fantasy with satyrs, centaurs, dwarves, and lots of blood?

Not your thing? I knocked a buck off all my old titles. Maybe you prefer a demon terrorizing people in Panama, or a twisted arsonist who helps catch a killer. There’s even an artificial intelligence robot girl. Now with new lower prices.

Purple Nurple

“Ow, ow, ow, ow! Okay, I’ll start writing something.”

Lorelei let go of my nipple and said, “I know you want to put your books online, but you have to keep writing too.”

“I could start an outline this weekend. I’ve got that cool Corkulous Pro app I used last time.”

She pointed at me, “When you’re creative,” she turned her finger toward herself, “it feeds the Muse.”

“So you’re like a parasite th–

“Ow, ow, ow, ow! You’re not a parasite, you’re not a parasite.” I rubbed my aching chest, “How’d you like me to twist your boobs?”

“In, your, dreams. Do you need me to send some characters over?”

“No, I liked one you sent last Spring. I’m kind of a history buff, so I’m setting her story in the 1960s. There’s a lot of parallels to modern times. It might appeal to readers.”

She patted my cheek and said, “Aw, you’ve already been thinking about it, that’s so cute. Now, get out to that imaginary cabin and get started. Have that robot girl from Wild Concept put the coffee on, and don’t come out until you have some note cards made.”

“I’ve got a lot of research to do. I can’t get historical events out of order. I might have to spend some time online.”

Lorelei placed her hands on her hips. “No. Worry about plot and story structure first. Once you have that, you can go back and add detail to your cards.”

I looked her up and down. She looked good in her winter boots. “You know, there are gentler ways of inspiring me.”

“In, your, dreams. Maybe your robot girl can help you out there.”

“Eww. That’s just not right.”

“Now quit farting around with this blog, and get cracking.”

I listened to her boot heels clack as she walked away. I always did like that sound, but that’s just like a Muse, to inspire without even thinking about it.

I’m going to pace myself. Start an outline, make some note cards, ice my nipple, edit Panama, shop for a cover artist.

The emails I sent to artists all went unanswered. If they’re booked, they could at least say so. It’s probably an indication that I don’t want to work with them anyway.