An unfamiliar muse has awakened recently, undoubtedly freed by this waiting game. Not a darned thing I can do without answers. Query status stands as 1 not taking new clients, 2 rejections (both to eQueries) and 10 still out there… It’s day 22. Each anticipatory thought that ‘no news is good news’ brings a fresh rejection, but still, at the close of the day I will still have 9 hot queries out there.
Waiting… nothing to do yet…
Back to the Muse
Thankfully, this ‘not touching CONFLUENCE again until someone professional tells me how to improve it' has freed this strange muse… one I’m not sure I’ve seen before (might be Melpomene, but I never knew I’d like her so much! I’m going to keep calling her Id though). She is lusty and violent! She likes murder and sex and characters in mortal peril! Man, is this fun?! I truly think the first chapter I wrote Monday will be a ‘send me the full’ first chapter (if I could only hurry through the whole book with such confidence, I could sell it now! (Id is impatient… did you know?)
Actually, other than one chapter intertwined with back story that I have to get just right, I think the whole first half, or at least third, can be written in a matter of weeks. I have plot plans and characters who are in such an interesting situation that it nearly writes itself. What would the word be? Wrorgasm? I’ve been assured Borkgasm conjures all the wrong images… Seriously—I come off writing each night (and yesterday even before work! Eeek!) on such a high. I’ve written two chapters in two days and fit in two previously written to a cohesive plot. Wow! (not bad considering I spend 9 hours a day at a day-job).
The problem is the Id has no discipline. A book that is first half adrenaline, second half manual labor will disappoint. And the Id Muse is bad for family life (can you say neglect?)
But better a torrid affair and blocks to build on than celibacy, I always say… (okay, I’ve never actually said that, but I would, had the situation arisen…)
At the moment though, I feel a little like a junkie; poke me with a quill and let me mainline the ink…
[side note: Mr. Tart is 47 today. He requests you entirely ignore that fact.]