A fedora and bullwhip greet me as centerpieces on my writing desk.
I glance around my writing office. I’m alone, along with an empty beer bottle on top of the mini-fridge over by the recliners. So he did find my note.
“Yes, I found your note, love.” The door to my writing office slams shut, the sound echoing in the confines. I can feel my Muse behind me, but I don’t dare turn around.
“Hey, it was family stuff. No getting out of it. Besides, it was fun.”
“Uh huh.” He edges past me, the scent of beer and fried food in his wake. My Muse’s pale gray button-down shirt hangs untucked over black jeans, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. Blue eyes lock to mine as he crosses his arms on his solid chest. “Since when is it acceptable to leave me a fecking note? Better yet, when is it acceptable to not tell me you’re going to be out instead of here writing?”
Crap. “Hey, at least I left a note.” Which is more than I can say for some people. “Let me guess. You and Mr. E crawled a few pubs. At least you don’t smell like smoke. I thought Mae was working on her new series. How did E manage a night off?” I pick up a marker for the white board and add to the list. Maybe I can distract him. “We’re done with clues–for my presentation. Next is red herrings, but everyone knows about mis-direction. How about we start with ‘Whaddya know’?”
“How about we finish our discussion on why you didn’t tell me you were going to be out last weekend? Did you finish your plot rewrite?”
Er. About that. “Getting there. I’ve been working on it during my lunch breaks.”
“Uh huh. How’s that going for you, love?”
“Slow.” Anyway. “Character knowledge is next on the list.” I scribble behind my last entry. “The protagonist can’t be a know-it-all. It’s a good reason to have supporting characters, because they can fill in the gaps.”
“We weren’t finished talking about your plot.”
Technically, no. But realistically, this is kinda where I’m at. “Fine. My protagonist needs to figure out who killed her mentor and why. Her boyfriend is the cop. So, he knows how to track down clues. She knows the victim and the area. Well, sort of the area since it’s been six years since she’s lived there.” I’m afraid to turn around; I can feel his stare drilling into my shoulders. “See, character knowledge, with clues thrown in.”
I can’t see him behind me, and I can’t hear him, but after a moment I can feel him behind me. The air is charged with Muse energy, like on a hot summer day just before the storm starts with rain, thunder, and lightning. Lots of lightning. Enough to make your hair twitch. “You will finish the plot this weekend, right, love?” He’s so close I can smell the onion rings he must have had at whatever pub he and Mr. E visited. And bitter notes of Guinness stout.
“That’s the plan.” After I finish reading the revised author welcome packet from my editor, and redoing the information packet she sent me yesterday.
“Good. Because I’m sticking around this weekend to make sure you work on it.”
Oh, goody. “Great!” Uff-da.
Don’t forget daylight saving time tonight (well, technically tomorrow morning at 2am) for those in the US (and not in Arizona or Hawaii)–Spring Ahead!
After getting another 9-10 inches of snow earlier this week, we might finally be turning the corner. Next week will be ten or more degrees above freezing. I so can’t wait for spring!
Have a great weekend, and get some writing on!