From time to time, my muse rears her head and talks to me. I’ve managed to capture some of these conversations and am sharing them with you. I will warn you that my muse is a potty-mouth. I have no control over what she tells me. Sorry.
Muse: What the hell is wrong with you? Nothing? You’ve written nothing for almost three whole weeks!?!?
Me: *dejectedly look down at my own feet* Sorry. Life’s just been too busy.
Muse: Are you treating your writing as a job or as a hobby?
Me: *sigh* As a hobby.
Muse: You should treat it as a job, you know?
Me: Yeah. If I were employing myself at writing, I’d fire me.
Muse: *slaps me upside the head* Get your act together. I have a shit-ton of ideas to feed to you, and I’m tired of holding on to them.
Me: *raises eyebrow while rubbing sore spot on head* Really?
Muse: Yeah. Really. But you can’t have them until you’re done with the current book. Now get back to work.
Me: You got it!
Muse: *grumbles something about worthless writers while fading into the darkness*