I’m crazy these days, of that I’m very certain. The brain is out to get me—or, should I say, my imagination? Because in the last couple of weeks it’s decided to come together and bum rush the stage—
Of late I’ve had a few old ideas come rushing back to me, and doing so with great detail and urgency. For a while I was fighting to get something, anything, to come to mind. And now, The Muse is tap dancing in the bedroom while wearing a leather teddy, black silk stockings, and some really cute pumps, saying, “Be good to me, and I won’t beat you too hard about the head when you’re writing one of these suckers!” Ah, she certainly knows the bedroom talk, doesn’t she?
Here’s the thing: I’m out to lunch today, and I’m beat. I’m dragging. I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night, and that luna moth that’s suppose to come and help me get rest must have been out drinking with his buddies, ‘cause the medication did nothing to help. Needless to say, I’ve been brain dead most of the day.
But I’m at lunch, getting coffee and something light to eat—or so I thought, until I saw the huge plate of food—when who shows up, but My Muse. “Hey,” she says, snapping her fingers to get my attention. “Remember that story idea you had a few years back about . . .” And just like that, I remembered something I’d dreamed up, something to do with an alternative history of space flight that involved—well, it’s not important now, but lets say it’s one of those stories that gets very involved, demands a lot of research, and wouldn’t be an easy undertaking to write.
But it’d be a great story.
Now I’m reaching a dilemma. I have a story I’m writing, but will end in three more chapters. I’ve agreed to write a Halloween story for a blog, because—hey, I’m a nice guy. And I like the idea of one of the characters being a sexy witch in fishnet stockings. I’m editing Echoes—or I should say, I’m going to get back into editing the story, as I seemed to have just let it fall by the wayside. And there is an article, or two, that’s I’ve promised to write for someone else.
That’s a lot of stuff to do. And not a bit of it seems to involve a story my Muse is kicking my ass to do.
Or are they?
I’ve picked up steam in the writing area again. I feel as if I’ve gotten a second wind, but . . . I guess you could say that I feel like, if I get back into writing another novel without selling my others, I’m going to burn myself out creating stories that no one sees.
Who wants to do that? Not I.
I’m giving serious consideration to taking something I’ve written of late and returning to self-publishing, but I’m not there yet, not quite. Though this suddenly bring another thought to might . . .
My Muse; she’s such a naughty lady.