The muse does not strike me often. (Considering my rough wooing of her, you'd think she'd backhand me…) Most of the time, writing involves a lot of determination, consideration, and, well, musing over what I want to write next.
But every once in awhile my muse decides to get frisky.
Such was this last weekend. After months of procrastinating over how I wanted to add more background story and relationship-building to 1794, BAM, it all clicked together.
(Maybe she really does backhand me…)
I got halfway through the scene on Saturday before I finally had to wake my husband up at 2pm so we could get around for the social event later that evening. For the rest of the day, the scene spun in the back of my mind, making my fingers itch.
Sunday we had a lunch date, and then headed over to our weekly boardgame group. I knew better. I brought my netbook. As I sat down at the table with my buds, the muse grabbed me by the ear.
(I love it when she gets all toppy.)
"Sorry, I can't concentrate," I muttered, and let her drag me off to another room.
I finished up the scene just as it was time to go home.
Was it rude to ignore everyone? Probably. But when your muse gives you come-hither eyes, really, just roll with it. You'll get it out of your system, you'll get some great work done, and you'll save your friends from having to deal with your cranky distracted self.