Me and My Muse

My muse has a wicked sense of humor. As I write this, I'm sure she is perched on my shoulder, laughing hysterically.

I was sitting here, mindlessly doing my work, and she whispered the BEST idea for a book into my ear. I froze, feeling my mind race with possibilities. I swore, because I'm really busy today and will have no time whatsoever to do any writing. And then I have a dentist appointment where I will get two temporary crowns. I'm not sure if I'll feel like doing any writing this evening or not. Depends a lot on how sore my jaw is. So I very carefully wrote three words on my calendar, hoping it will be enough to keep the idea fresh in my mind, and kept pulling credit bureau reports.

She laughed wickedly.

I typed into the computer. A few details came to mind. I can't lose them. I scribbled seven more words onto my calendar.

I pulled a few more credit bureau reports, while my muse rubbed her hands together with glee. More ideas came. I scribbled 16 more words onto my calendar, and told my muse to shut the fuck up. I've got a lot of work to do today, and while I'm incredibly grateful for her gifts, her timing sucks to hell and back.

Okay, so the fall is a really busy time for my business, and we had major queue changes this month. But things should start slowing down for me at work, and I should really start having time to write. So I'm going to start writing on this at home, and hope like mad that I get time to start writing at work again. Because, really, that's the only reason I took this job.

Oh, and I'm not going to talk much about my new idea, other than to tell you that it's brilliant. Because the more I talk about the ideas, the less I write them. I will tell you only that it relates to my passion, my obsession. Chaucer. And it's brilliant, and it will become a best-seller, and I will make lots of nice, wonderful money, and I won't have to slave as a poor administrative assistant.

Hey! Stop sniggering! I can dream if I want to!