The Problem with Muses

Why is it that as soon as your head hits the delicious fluffy pillow you waited all day for, your eyes drift close to enter a restful sleep, the brat with wings we writers call our muses perks up like a child on a sugar-high? Oh man, was mine ever on a sugar-adrenaline-caffeine high last night! The vicious little winged brat danced, jumped, cartwheeled all around my dreams and head for a solid hour. Wheedeled, cajoled, and crowed about how she knew way to get more punch in the current WiP I've been working on called Fire Moon Dance.

Exhausted, not to mention I would be facing a Monday morning, I pleaded with her to hold the news and ideas until later, and tried to push her away and burrow into sleep. Nope, there was no holding this adrenaline riddled winged brat. She tugged and pulled at me. Beautiful gorgeous sleep remained ever elusive. Tossing the sheet back, I rolled out of bed, yawned, tried not to stumble over a cat while I pulled the memory stick from my purse since that held all my precious writing files. Shuffling into the libary/office, I sat down hard and booted up the lap-top.

When the images and ideas began to flood my tired brain, I realized this wasn't going to be a simple note taking experience. While I waited for the screens to come up, I grabbed some iced-tea for a minor hit of caffeine to wake up my brain to and catch up to adrenaline-paced muse - though she was at tornado speed by this point. Sitting down again, I plugged in the memory stick, opened the WiP and went to the point she wanted.

She began to point out what was wrong. While I agreed with what she talked about - a huge majority of the book took place on one day and night - I wasn't sure about how she went about changing things. I blinked at her option. Break it up? How? Force another day in there?

::Why not? You have the space now? It's not a simple novella?:: she said, tapping little feet, fluttering wings. ::Break it up. Spread it out. Don't rush it.::

But won't I lose the momentum? The drama that was created? All those words and editing I slaved over.

::Do it!::

Slugging down another swallow of tea, I moved my finger on the pad to the chapter break and hit it. Then I started the new chapter, amazing the words flow more readily then I expected. It continued to flow until I finished the chapter and hit another chapter break.

By now the clock read after 11 pm. By this time, exhaustion dragged. I couldn't hold back sleep. Not even for my crazy muse. I begged for sleep. I saved and shut down. Dropped the stick back in the purse and curled into bed.

Yet, as I went to sleep. Pain in the ass muse gave me one more direction to change.

::Your Latino hero doesn't speak a lick of Spanish to the heroine in the book. You need to change that too. It'll make him different from the other hero.::

I'm seriously considering feeding her to the cats.