My muse has taken off to Tahiti or somewhere. She left me a set of notes for the next two chapters of my novel, and she even set up a lovely, late night getting to know you session for my hero and heroine, but what she forgot to leave was the desire to write.
Most days, wanting to write isn't a problem. In fact, the less time to write that I have, the more I want to do it. But here I am, with Saturday and Sunday stretched out in front of me and a modest 12 pages scheduled to write, and I have no desire whatsoever to sit in front of my computer and write. It's not that I don't like my story--I do. I'm madly in love with my hero and very intrigued to find out just how the heroine is going to work with him to solve the mystery.
I just don't want to write today.
Check that—intellectually, I do want to write today. I know that I need to get this book done before the end of July so I'll be ready to send a proposal to my editor by the time I hear back on DANGEROUS PURSUIT. I know that to reach that goal, I have to make my daily scheduled page counts. I also know that when I have the next couple of chapters figured out in this story, I need to be writing, because sooner or later I'm going to hit a rough patch where I don't know what happens next, and then writing three pages a day is going to be sheer torture.
But emotionally, I don't wanna write, and nyah, nyah, nyah, you can't make me. So there!
World, meet my inner three-year-old.
Do you ever have days like this?
I went looking for my muse and found her on my sofa. We took a long nap. But I swear, after dinner, we are so gonna write.
The muse, she's a harsh mistress. Once she finished cracking her whip, I'd written 17 pages this evening. I guess we both needed that nap! :)