Spent my writing time yesterday looking for my muse. I think she stepped out for a cigarette and maybe a tall latte, and someone hijacked her. Or she bailed on me, the strumpet. I tried caffeine to lure her back. Then I tried more caffeine. Then I tried sugar to go with the caffeine (and we bid fond adieu to the last of the Halloween Pixie Stix). Result: No muse, but a profound case of the twitches.
So I said: "Screw the harlot. I can write just fine without her."
Writing stats from yesterday:
100-words, all of them crappy, and all of them blood drenched from my bleeding fingertips.
*whimper*
Hey, I'm not proud. I begged. "Muse? I didn't mean what I said. Please come back. I'll make you a brimful pot of Harry & David's Moose Munch coffee. And we'll have chocolate and pie. Muse?"
Fortunately, today she took pity on me, assisted by a clever idea brainstormed by Matthew.
Writing stats for today:
2500 words to the theme of "dirt" as per the Creative Loafing Fiction contest (thanks for the head's up
So I hit writing flow, with a few snags here and there. I think I work well with a deadline. Or maybe it was all the coffee.