Facets of a Muse

Examining the guiding genius of writers everywhere

In place of our regularly (sort of) scheduled post

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Julie’s Muse here. She’s supposed to be writing this post, but due to unforseen circumstances–sure, like I haven’t been warning her about this for the past three weeks. Sheesh!

Anyway, she asked me to write the post today–okay, she didn’t ask me. She needs to focus on her WIP, so I’m taking this off her plate. Just this time, though.

Did you hear that, love? Don’t think I’m going to do this every freaking time you get within spitting distance of Despair. Who sold you those one-way tickets, anyhow? I’m gonna kick someone’s ass. Round-trip tickets to Despair with layovers are the only ones they’re supposed to sell.

I’m gonna need a bonus for this. Cinnamon whiskey. Did you hear me? Hey, are you even listening? *curses under breath*

Anyway, she’s having a creative, er, mental crisis right now, of the sort that’s way above my pay grade. I sent her to con-fab with the ancient muses for a while, until she breaks through. Or breaks down. Whichever gets her fixed faster.

The ancient muses? You know, the Nature Enclave. No? Never heard of them? Okay, so maybe that’s not their real name, but they’re the ones we Muses hit up for inspiration. You may know them by their other names: the outdoors, wilderness, parks, nature, trees, oceans, waterfalls, mountains, Mother Earth, etcetera.

Anyway, my job for today is to make sure she comes back from her walkabout. *looks around* Dammit, lost her already. *pulls out author detector* Hmm. *adjusts settings* Ah, there she is, still wandering through the Valley of Dark Moods. I’d better bring her a light.

Oh, one more thing.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Author: Julie Holmes, author

A fiction writer since elementary school (many years ago), and NaNoWriMo annual participant for over a decade, I have been published in small press magazines such as "Fighting Chance" and "The Galactic Citizen". I write adult mystery with a touch of romance, mystery with extrasensory elements, contemporary fantasy, and epic fantasy, and I'm represented by the fabulous Cynthia Zigmund of Second City Publishing Services. My debut novel, "Murder in Plane Sight", has been released by Camel Press (an imprint of Coffeetown Press/Epicenter Press). In real life, I am a technical writer and empty-nester with a wonderful hubby, three cats (what writer doesn't have cats??), and more chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits than any garden should have to deal with. My garden, our hobby farm, and Nature's annual seasons are some of my muses.

9 thoughts on “In place of our regularly (sort of) scheduled post

  1. Okay, Mister Muse. Get cracking. Yes, I mean you! It’s your job to inspire Julie for crying out loud! Sheesh. Get with the program.
    Now, Julie dear, I hope you put him in his place. Enjoy your walk. Take deep breaths. You got this.
    And Happy Thanksgiving to you too!
    Sue

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  2. Everything Sue said, including Happy Thanksgiving!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Okay, I know you’re probably ticked, Mr. Muse because I’m so late and I’ve heard how um, *ahem* persnickety you can be, but I’m hoping you rounded up Julie and got her back on track. I ended up with a back injury last week that took me off the radar for several days (including Thanksgiving). Mr. E (yeah, THAT Mr. E, your pub-crawling friend) even cut me some slack and let me off the hook while I was sidelined with muscle relaxants and heating pads.

    Today was highly productive and I’m hoping it’s been the same for Julie. You and Mr. E both have your work cut out for you. Oh, and…a happy belated Thanksgiving to you and that wonderful writer, Julie. ๐Ÿ™‚

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    • LOL! Mr. E told me you were slacking–er, ahem, sidelined due to an injury. I did manage to coax Julie back to work, but she’s still not settled. I might have to resort to dragging her ass to the library to work. I still haven’t got the hang of pulling her out of Real Life, so that’s next on my practice list.

      Glad to hear you had a productive weekend. Unfortunately, my ward is–aw, bloody hell. She’s fecking missing again. Damn. Sorry, Mae, gotta track her down again. Hi to Mr. E. Tell him I’ll have to beg off next weekend’s rounds–at this rate, I’m going to go through that bottle of cinnamon whiskey before the next holiday. ๐Ÿ™‚

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