Only one other time in my short writing career has my Muse taken off somewhere I imagine the little prick is sunning himself somewhere in the Bahamas while I sit in front of my computer staring blankly at my word files, hoping that something interesting will start to flow from my fingers.

When I’m feeling pressured, annoyed or down in the dumps I generally write like a mad woman, pouring all my angst into the words of my stories. MY LITTLE MUSE sits upon my shoulder and pushes me to continue, helps me through the rough stuff and kicks me in the ass when I need it.

I’m not really sure where the block is coming from. I suppose that if I REALLY thought about it I might be able to come up with some plausible answer but the problem is that I don’t really want to laminate over what might be at the heart of my discontent. I haven’t learned the art of selfish preservation at all cost and I’m thinking that may be part of the problem. I feel a certain amount of guilt whenever I move forward which is a ridiculous way to feel.  All I know is that I haven’t written beyond a couple of pages in the last five weeks. A certain amount of excitement I used to feel is now gone, sucked out of the joy of writing for me.

So I blame the one thing that is easiest to find fault with, MY MUSE. I ca sit and call him every name in the book. The  pecker-head merely laughs and disappears again into the dark place inside me where he lives. But I miss the little brat and his torturous ways, his mocking laughter echoing in my head. His selfish desire to needle me until I can’t stand it anymore and HAVE to get the words down on paper. He’s abandoned me for whatever his own selfish purposes may be and NOW I’m so angry with him that I’m not sure I want him back. Of course that’s the ultimate denial, I miss the little shit and want him to return to me. I want him to wake me up at night with an idea, or to shake my by the shoulders until I finish a chapter. I want to hear him in my ear telling me that what I’m writing isn’t nearly good enough if only to prove him wrong.

So where ever you have skipped off to you jerk get back here before I have to replace you with another one who won’t abandon me in my darkest hour!!!!!!!!! On the other hand maybe he is trying to steer me in a new direction, maybe he’s trying to how me that I need to be a little more selfish. It is at odds with who I am as a person and I’m not sure how I can reconcile myself to do it, but I know that I have to forge on and continue to sit in front of my pc until my fingers start to move and the ideas flow freely again.

God help him when he returns because I’m a bitch on wheelz at the moment and he deserves a good lashing.



  1. Okay, I may not be your muse, but I’m telling you to get back to that keyboard and let those words pour from your fingers as they are meant to. You can do it! Love you … now get busy!


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