It appears that you will have to put up with me writing the post again. I suspect you’ll hear from me every week for the rest of the month.
Hell, I’ll gladly write these posts if it means my writer is actually writing. As I type, Julie is in her recliner in the corner with her laptop on her lap, and headphones on. Hmm. I don’t hear any typing.
I don’t even think her eyes are open.
I know she has noise-cancelling headphones, but she should still be able to hear me. *snaps fingers* “Hey, Julie.”
She doesn’t even react until I’m standing at the foot of the recliner. I grab her slippered foot.
Heh. You should have seen her jump.
“What the hell?” she says.
“Were you sleeping, love? I’m not here to watch you sleep.”
She pulls off her headphones. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was thinking.”
“Oh, is that what you call it now?”
She rolls her eyes, then sticks out her tongue. As I expected. I’ve been her Muse too long for much of anything to surprise me.
“Hey, I’ve been writing. I’m keeping up. And I finally hit a spot where I can just write. I’ve been having trouble with the transitions. Which, come to think of it, you could help with. Since you’re my Muse.” She draws out the last in a way that makes me think of a snarky teenager.
“You are fecking lucky I know you so well, love.”
A knock at the door to her writing office interrupts. She sets her computer aside and goes to answer the door.
Sigh. I can feel the energy shift. I suspect my writer’s expected surge of words over the weekend is fading.
Julie closes the door and returns to her recliner. “Just because my daughter is home from school–which, by the way, I wasn’t expecting–doesn’t mean I won’t be able to make my word counts.”
“Remember that, love. And remember you are busy next week, so you have to get ahead in your word count this weekend.”
She grumbles. “Just finish the post already so you can help me concentrate.”
The end of the first week of NaNo. Three more weeks and 40,000 or so more words to go. Lovely. I might have to call in reinforcments. A book dragon, perhaps?