I’m not even going to tell you how far behind I am. Let’s see. If I could do one week’s worth of writing over the weekend, I might catch up to where I’m supposed to be.
Grumpy is not impressed.
And he keeps waiting for my Muse to come back so he can complain. About me. Which is probably why my Muse hasn’t come back from his pub crawl yet. Not to mention Mr. E had, like, an extended weekend off since his writer got sick.
Now, in my defense, I have been writing every day. This week has been a treasure trove of “stuff going on”, like a Sisters in Crime chapter meeting, and an author event (no, not me, but I’m doing a panel with the author in January and I had never met her). Aaand (Grumpy, stop with the evil eye *sticks out tongue*) I have a keyboard I can use with my iPad plus I bought the Scrivener app so I can keep writing while I’m passing the time until the events start. I got over 1200 words in during an hour and a half at the library!
“It ain’t enough.” Grumpy hrrumphs.
“Shut. Up.” Gawd. Maybe I can sell this grump-ass dragon to some unsuspecting …
“Hey,” he growls. “I ain’t for sale. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here if that damned Aussie muse of yours hadn’t pulled a full house in the last hand. This is worse than losing that Corellian freighter to that shady Lando.”
“Wait. You lost the Milleni…”
Grumpy holds up a hand. “That’s enough. Don’t want to get in trouble from those guys. They probably got lawyers on retainer in case I tell the rest of the story.”
Ooooh. “Which is what, exactly?”
“None of yer damned business. You gonna write or what? You ain’t gonna make up ten thousand words writing a blog post. You got two days to do it.”
“You know, my son and his girlfriend stopped in to visit last weekend, and my daughter wasn’t supposed to come home this weekend. And I had a migraine last weekend. That’s when I fell behind.” Damn head. Three episodes of Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting was about all I could muster. I couldn’t even do any reading.
“Excuses. I wanna see words. Five thousand each day. And next week you got what, a four-day weekend?”
“You can’t count Thanksgiving. Or Black Friday. That’s when I do all my Christmas shopping.” From the comfort of my own home, because going out in crowds is for the crazy people who think it’s fun.
Pale green smoke curls from his nostrils. “How the flaming hell has that Aussie muse put up with you for how long did he say? Thirty years?”
Er, yeah, I guess it has been that long. “Hey, I’ve ‘won’ every NaNo for the past thirteen years. Well, except the very first one. And the one I did after I did my own in February earlier in the year.” Was that two years ago? Last year?
“So what the hell is your problem now? And don’t give me any shit about working full time. Or migraines. Or kids coming home from college.”
Gawd, I can’t wait until my Muse comes back.
“You and me both. Now, finish that post and get your ass going on your WIP. Or whatever the hell you’re writing. Maybe you should write something different for a while. Yeah. Like a story about a dragon that loses a damn poker game and gets stuck babysitting a fracking pain-in-the-ass writer.”
“Hey, be nice. I’m bigger than you.”
Grumpy snorts. Tiny green flames illuminate his nostrils. “Fire trumps size, girly.” He extends wings I swear I’ve never seen before now. “And dragon magic. Don’t mess with dragon magic.”
Okay, I’d better sign off before he gets his undies–er, scales in a bunch (hey, 670 words! Woo-hoo!). We’ve got winter arriving–well, more winter arriving–tonight. To all my writing friends out East dealing with the Nor’easter–stay warm, stay safe.
Write on! (and add a furry lap blanket 😀 )