Thursday, November 11, 2010

Muses and Other Sadistic B*tches

         My muse is named Tallulah Belle and she is every inch the Southern Belle. She is headstrong and extremely vocal. When she wants me to write something, she will not give me a minute’s peace until I at least sketch it out. I have to appease her or she will just not shut-up. She will flood my dreams with scenes from the story, often involving tasty snippets of some very hawt men. Let’s face it, the b*tch knows what I like and she know just what I need to get me hooked.

          I am in the middle of my second year participating in National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as NaNo. I have a set story that I am desperate to finish. It has plagued me for months. I am finally making good headway with it, but Tallulah seems to have other plans. She waits until I start writing my story, then she will show me a scene and try to tempt me away. So far, she has shown me four distinctive stories. They vary genres from two YA stories (one mystery, one paranormal) both could easily go into series, one erotica, and one murder mystery.  I don’t believe she has stopped in her attempt to derail my progress.

          Now, I know this sounds like a bunch of hogwash. I will fully admit that before I started writing I would hear an author speak of their muse talking to them, working out their stories.  I would roll my eyes and think, “Boy, what a bunch of crap! If you don’t want to tell me where you get your ideas that’s fine, but seriously!” I have since fallen down the rabbit hole, stepped through the mirror, said goodbye to sanity and joined the league of muse-controlled writers.

          It is a love/hate relationship. She taunts and teases. She disappears when I need her most. She pouts and pitches a fight when I refuse to listen. Worst of all the b*tch has no sense of time. She will wait until I am almost asleep to think of a solution to a certain scene or come up with a plot that I’ve been struggling with for days.

          I will head to bed. Get all nice and comfy. My body starts to relax as the tensions of the day slowly leaves my body.

Tallulah:   Hey Mags. You asleep?

Me: Hmmm.

Tallulah:   Oh…Too bad, I was thinking and you know how you had the guy falling down the cave entrance. Well, I was thinking that maybe he should first ALMOST fall first. You know sort of builds the drama don’t ya think.

Me: *sigh* Tallulah, it is 1 am and I have to be up in 2 hours. Can this wait til morning.

Tallulah: Well excuse me, missy. I was just trying to help, but if you’re going to bite my head off then I’ll just shut up and leave you alone. It’s not like I don’t have other things to do. *huffs loudly**

Me: Thank you. *rolls over*

Tallulah:   I mean it’s not like I enjoy thinking of your dreck every minute. I mean seriously some of the things you expect me to fix! I would expect a little more gratitude from you, but I guess that is asking way too much.

Me:  At 1 am? Yes, it is way too much to expect. Now, if you’d wait until the morning I will be more than happy to hear your take. Seriously, are you trying to make me so sleep deprived that you can just take over and write the d*mn thing yourself?

Tallulah:   Hmmm, is that possible?

Me:  I was kidding. Now let me sleep…please.

Tallulah: Oh alright. Goodnight.

15 minutes elapses

Tallulah: Had enough sleep yet?

Me:  NO!

Tallulah:  You want to write. You want to write. You want to write.

Me: WTF?

Tallulah:  Trying to take over your body. I dunno, it seemed interesting and I thought I’d give it a try. It’s not like there is a manual you know.

Me: Who’s Emmanuel?

Tallulah:   *exasperated, she sighs* A manual. A book on how to—oh never mind, go back to sleep.

Me:  *snicker*

          I want to say, I don't always win these battles. Truth be told, she wins far more than I do and I hate to lose. The only thing that stops me from getting truly bitter is I know that by losing these battles with my muse, I actually win. It illustrates the old adage, "sometimes you have to lose the battle in order to win the war."

         I have come to enjoy my talks with my muse, even when she jumps from subject to subject like a rat on crack. It is always an exciting exchange full of endless possibilities. Life is good and my muse is chatty. To say that my relationship with my muse is complicated is an understatement. I will ride this wave as long as it last and be thankful for the inspiration, even if it means little sleeps and whispered voices at inopportune moments.  It is the price I pay for my creativity and I happen to think it’s worth it. J

         I'm blogging over a the Para posse blog tomorrow on what draws us to paranormal romance. Come by and comment for your chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.


Anonymous said...

OMG! Too funny, you should really warn people. I spit my tea all over the screen

Nicole H. said...

LOL! Absolutely hilarious! *snicker* Loved it! And oh so very true!

Kat said...

Rat on crack? I laughed out loud. This was terribly funny, and all too true. Kat