Smothering my Muse

The last few weeks my push to finish a story turned into a struggle. With the first draft complete it should have been easier. I recognized the problem areas, knew what I wanted to accomplish, yet was distracted. My mind was wandering to other stories, and characters were running through my mind in pure chaos. In short, my muse was running amuck.

I’ve never given much thought to my muse. I know what stirs her, like a good rain storm, but she’s always been there, just a part of me. We’ve never had a problem concentrating on a story once we’ve completed the first draft. So maybe I just wasn’t focusing enough.

My best writing is done early morning before reality encroaches. The thirty minute drive to work is ideal--quiet with few distractions. (Okay, I’ll admit I’ve pulled into the parking lot without remembering the drive, or nearly rear ended a semi over a good scene. No, I’m not proud of this—actually a little terrified if you want the truth.)

To focus on the story I decided no more music in the car, no more reading until this story was done. (Since I don’t read in the same genre while I’m writing, my TBR pile was growing.) No more movies either, and I stopped those wasted daydreams unless they were about the current story. Every spare minute was spent on writing, editing and polishing.

Two weeks into this my muse packed up and left me. I couldn’t really blame her, I’d have left too had that been an option. My writing had ceased entirely, my mood was scary and still no rain, with none in the forecast. My muse was smothering at my hands. Finally, I couldn’t stand my own company any longer.

I decided to scrap the book, my writing, and my sanity. All over rated anyway. I popped in a CD, grabbed a good book and read the entire thing. I felt renewed, relaxed when I finally went to bed. This morning my muse popped up on the way to work. She’s a smart ass little thing, but we fit well together. I’m just glad I didn’t smother her entirely.