My Muse Works In Mysterious Ways

I have no idea what is going on here...
I was writing strong on my paranormal and then the worst happened. My thoughts froze, the ideas locked up, my characters stopped talking to me.


So, I step up to the plate and start a new WIP, it's actually in answer to a submissions call from Loose-Id which means there is a deadline involved. Sure, no problem...45 days...I've got this. And I did. I created a killer blurb, plotted the story start to finish, and started writing. Ready, Set...Stall.

Two chapters in and the story just stopped being told in my head.

Yesterday, I woke up and had a serious talk with my muse. It started out "WTF!???"
I didn't like the answer.

"George," she whispered.


"George," she demanded more forcibly.

"I do not have time for these antics." George, meaning the WIP: Vow of Silence, technically the Fifth Chronicle of Surrender is so far back on the back burner that it shouldn't even have a working title and definitely does not belong in my thoughts.

"You have nothing but time," my muse said and I couldn't think of a single thing to say to that. I went outside and looked at my yard...I actually have grass this year, which is a huge improvement over the dirt field and spartan weeds I had last year. I watered the lush perennials which have returned to the bird sanctuary to brighten my day. I weeded the garden (a sure symptom of absolute desperation. I hate weeding.)

I went inside and opened the folder titled Vow of Silence and found the notes I've been taking over the last decade. George thoughts. And damn it if I didn't fall in love with George all over again.

Here's the first look at George from Sacred Secrets:

George Kirkpatrick is pacing, and his nervousness is making me insane. He’s the calmest, most rational handler I have on staff, my Number One, and he is pacing the length of my office. His blond hair and preppy countenance make him seem better suited for the tennis courts of LA or the golf clubs of Solvang. But no, he will tell you that is his past, he gave up a very successful LA psychiatric practice to get lost in the fantasy, a time before he made fantasy real life.

In the World of Lewd Larry's he is known as Dr. Psycho.

In my head he is a list of contradictions. In my head, he weeps. His heart has been broken. Yet, he still loves. He is optimistic, he is jaded.

He's a freaking psychiatrist for crying out loud.
He's a sadist.

Last night I wrote:
Chapter One

Holy shit, I'm really starting this book.
I don't know if I love my muse or hate her, but for the moment...I'm listening...and she's singing me the most beautiful love story about love and loss, betrayal and redemption...

Holy shit.


Y said...

sorry your mused is driving you crazy...but i am excited! hope all is well with you otherwise. we are having some beautiful weather here lately, its been great!

Y said...

oops i meant Muse...*giggle* not mused.