As I pounded my head on the desk last night in search of something terribly witty and terrific to share, I discovered two things:
- Banging one’s head on the desk is not the greatest ways of solving problems, and
- My personal muse had officially deserted me for the evening.
He’s probably off for a drink somewhere. Between the two of us he has to drink my share, I don’t touch the stuff. He probably thinks I’m going to have it in for him first thing in the morning, Monday mornings tend to be overly productive around here. I haven’t the heart to tell him that I’m on a literary vacation of sorts. I plan to return to revisions and writing in January, after my December hiatus. If he knows that, I fear he might head out on an early Spring break and return permanently changed, if he returns at all.
My muse? He’s the invisible fellow who sits on the top of the shelf above my desk and speaks with an insufferable condescending yet charming English accent. The relationship normally works well, he’ll blow imaginary smoke rings in my face if I get too serious and I berate him for letting my story arc go astray. When he’s fully fueled we run along, zipping one liners at each other and congratulating ourselves on our wit and brilliance. When he’s running low he’ll curl up in the fetal position and rock for hours. He can do that all he likes as long as he doesn’t moan or blubber to himself. At times like those I get no work done at all.
He doesn’t mind my bizarre work schedule, I usually need him at the most unusual times of day. First thing in the morning, late evening, and whenever the kids are distracted enough not to notice me sneaking to my workstation. I often have to cut him off mid-thought to deal with kid-related business. It would be useful if he would remember what we were working on when I return, at times hours later. But he has a mind that wanders, and no matter how many notes I leave him the moment is gone, replaced with a different colored stream of ideas.
It’s taken ages perfecting our relationship and now I feel that we can start creating some pretty amazing things together.
So, please don’t tell him I’m on a mini vacation. I couldn’t bear having to train a replacement.