Writer’s log, NaNoWriMo Day 11–
The Internet was down the night before last, not that it mattered. Daughter’s tennis award dinner that same night ate up a couple hours. After I returned home, I couldn’t find my Muse. He went AWOL again, even after he agreed to stick close. Needless to say, not much writing done. *grumble*
November weather unseasonably awesome for MN. Last year, 20 degree highs–January weather in November. This year, we’re still pulling close to 60 degree highs. Yesterday was supposed to be the last nice day for a while. Walked during lunch, but missed a final outdoor run for the year after work. That early sunset just doesn’t work well for running along a dirt road with big grain trucks lumbering by.
Craft beer supply depleted. Maybe that’s why my Muse disappeared. Note to self: stock up on the way home.
Slogging through a new chapter added to support the revamped plot line in WIP. Trying to balance MC fear factor without overacting. Note to self: Do NOT watch Star Trek reruns. Correction, do NOT watch Bill Shatner in any shows.
Where’s my Muse? Gawd, he’s not even around for my blog post. I suppose he got tired of waiting.
“You are fecking pathetic, you know that?”
I don’t bother turning around. “Gee, nice of you to show up.”
“Really? You’re going to open that door? Not a good idea.” The sweet, smoky scent of burning autumn leaves surrounds me. “You’re out of craft beer.”
“I’m stopping to pick up more on my way home. Is that the only reason you stick around?”
“No, love, I stick around because I enjoy browbeating you.” I don’t hear sarcasm in his voice. He continues before I can interrupt. “I’m here to guide you, just like every other muse. I hear, though, I’m a bit harsher than others. Is that why you aren’t writing? Am I too hard on you?”
“No. I’m not writing because, like you said last week, someone keeps shaking the marbles and they won’t stop moving.” Sigh. “It’s supposed to be icky outside the next few days. The plan is to write.”
He appears in my field of vision when he rests a hip on my desk. He’s still rockin’ the rugged look, complete with flannel, denim, and trail boots, but clean-shaven this time. “How far did you get last night?”
I give him the stink-eye. “Two chapters, no thanks to you. I started dozing off, so I had to pack it up for the evening.”
He sets a collection of items on my desk. A folder with the University of MN logo, a snowball that isn’t melting for some reason, and something that reminds me of the cat harness we had when I was a kid. I have no idea why we had a cat harness; we never walked the cats.
Each piece plays a part in the next few chapters of my WIP. I have to check out that snowball. It’s cold, slippery, but isn’t melting. Weird. “What? Emptying your pockets? I don’t need this stuff. I know where the next scenes are going.” I pick up the harness. “Ferret?”
“Of course it’s for a ferret. This ‘stuff’ is to remind you to focus on the story.”
“Where’s my Dash-8? I mean, if you’re going to go all out,” I add with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
He pulls a chair up next to me and sits, bottle of craft beer in hand–when’d he get that? “Ready? We’ve got a blizzard, an UNSUB, and a romantic thread to work on.” He twists the cap off the bottle and snaps it across the room. “Let’s get to it.”
Writer’s log, Day 11. Muse returned. Back to work!