“Whatever for?” the inquiring furry, four-legged muse asks from her perch on my right hip. (My dog loves a good bout of researching. She gets to snuggle at my side without having to put up with all the histrionics that accompany a pure writing spell, i.e. teeth-gnashing, cold sweat, heart palpitations and the occasional keening wail to the literary gods.)
Alas, the answer to “Whatever for?” is a rather undeniable one.
When writing in a new genre (in my case, jumping from m/m to mainstream romance) patience is demanded.
“You are not experienced here,” I keep having to tell myself. “You don’t know for certain what works in these waters, yet.”
This is true. My current project, The Hushing Days, while having terribly excited my literary agent, has not been sold yet…
“In fact, woman, you haven’t even finished it! Now, get your scrawny behind back to the grindstone! Worry about tomorrow when you get done with freaking today. Don’t make me tell you this again, sweetheart.”
(At this point, my dog/muse/touchstone-to-reality has scurried to the other end of the couch. I really don’t blame her. My “pep talks” can often be degrading, rude, and rather sneering.)
So, all my gathered-up spare moments will be retrained immediately back upon The Hushing Days. Boring, but indeed sensible.
Ok, since this post has no redeeming merit whatsoever so I will end it here before either Self or Muse gets tetchy again.