My Missing Muse

I’ve been thinking of my muse, who apparently used to live in my car. Since I wrecked my car two weeks ago and have been car-less, I have been in a funk. All inspiration vanished into the barren junk yard with my poor, deer-slaying automobile. I was going to go on a vacation last week, but without a car, that got cancelled. What should I do instead? Spring clean! Yes, I totally missed Spring because I was working on my last novel. On Wednesday,  with only one room finished and in the middle of my much-needed vacation, I received my manuscript back from my editor. I reluctantly crawled into the black hole of 1860 for the next five days to do the FINAL edit/proofread/format on my book. The rest of the cleaning did not get done.

Now, I’m in limbo.

The novel has been transferred to other creative hands and is completely out of my control. Yesterday I bought a new car with nine whole miles on it, my house is still a mess, and I am still in desperate need of a vacation. But alas, in nineteen hours, I go back to work.

I am on chapter eight of the sequel, but I am spent and exhausted. I need a muse. I need inspiration. I need someone to put a gun to my head and demand the next few chapters right now.

Right now, I need an aspirin and a nap.

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