I’ve been trying not to write a story. The reasons are plentiful and valid: I’m in the middle of editing Choice and Consequence. I have another novel ready to be edited. And mostly, this particular story is the third book in a series. A series that I am currently querying the first book. Which means there are no guarantees what the outcome of the series will be.
So I shouldn’t be writing the story. Not one valid reason to write it.
Except that my muse grabbed a chair, stood on top of it, and yelled in her loudest voice: THIS NOVEL NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN. Then, when that failed to light a fire under my ass, she yodeled. She’s not very good at yodeling. Even with my hearing aids off I could still hear her. There was only one way to shut her up.
I began writing. And the words flowed. The story flowed. I kept my focus pulled in other directions, took it light.
Then about a week or so ago (I’m awful with real life time lines) my muse and the story found their stride. The puzzle pieces of the story clicked into place and I was powerless to resist.
Now here comes the other complication: I have a deadline to get this done. Mainly because if I don’t get it done by the deadline I will be forced to put it aside for a week. No big deal, I can finish the novel in… a week and a half?
No, it didn’t seem possible. But I gave it a try, and threw myself into writing. And my novel threw herself into being written. And suddenly I was writing between 3,000 and 5,000 words a day. In four days I spit out 20,000 words.
It’s an amazing feeling when the muse is working and the words are flowing. There are parts I’m sure are crap. And my dyslexia is acting up as my muse goes into hyper drive. If it wasn’t for my spellchecker my novel would be a mess of p,b,d mess ups. Not to mention the pronoun mistakes I’ve caught in brief read throughs. Yes, this story will have me banging my head against the wall when I get to editing. I’m sure I’ll turn to my muse and ask “WTF?” And she’ll just smile sweetly at me, and ignore my request.
I’ll worry about that later. Because in the meantime I see the light at the end of the tunnel, the story may just be finished on time. And with any luck, my muse will be sated for a while.