Restless and unrestrained, The Muse, is ready to go; he takes me by the hand. Softly, he whispers into my ear. His words make my heart race and my mind whir.
“Are you brave?” He asks, wearing the Devil’s smile. “Or just plain reckless?”
“Courageous,” I reply. “Now bring me my pens. We have work to do.”
(Gonna need a new calendar)
Yesterday, in a fit of pique I gathered up my notebooks. I re-arranged my desk to group the works in progress to see all of what was in the pipeline. What has been in the pipeline for years. There are seven different notebooks, each with a different story. All of which I plan to write, get through at some point. I don’t ever, throw anything away. I even found a plan for another Devan Coultrie book. That, however, doesn’t feel very immediate. It’s not calling to me as much as the stack of notebooks are.
The plan today, was start on on writing project, that needs to be done by next summer. A contribution for an anthology, that can be up to ten thousand words. I have a plan, a process that I fancy testing out. Only for The Muse to sulk today, having grinned at me yesterday, like a crazy thing. I may give it a bash today. Though the The Muse does feel as though it is hungover. Understandable, as it’s been a busy year for writing.
I had planned to sit at my desk all today. To close the door, have my head phones and write as much as I could. Then I woke up, tired and bleary eyed. I have some recharging to do, I think. I probably shouldn’t push myself to create when The Muse isn’t feeling the best. I know that there are things to write, to conjure and create. But the conditions and contributing variables don’t feel write today. One of the many reasons I choose not to do Nanowrimo, is that it doesn’t feel right to work so intensely in a short period of time. As disciplined as I can be, about writing, I don’t think I’d cope with such a gruelling regime. I like having relatively unfettered, mostly organic process of writing. That’s why there are so many different notebooks; why there are often post-it’s stuck into them as I think of something to add or construct.
What I’m inclined to do, is sit here at my desk. Leaf longingly through the leaves of the notebooks, to try and enter the zone. To see what stirs The Muse. To pick up my pens, if moved to do so. I don’t really like deadlines, even when I have self-imposed ones. However, I do like to be disciplined when it comes to writing. I get really very frustrated when not able to conjure up figments of my imagination. I might have a bullet point, in a plan, to meet, and then have nothing floating across my mind.
To think, I missed a blog post yesterday, and want to make up for it today!