My muses, my characters, and the workings of my butterfly mind...

I apparently have a poetry muse that only turns up at BF in the morning. If I’m asleep, I miss it.

This muse can also turn up when I’m rat-faced tired. Often, too tired to write anything down.

Same way my story muse tends to bug me when I’m driving the car. Dang muses. Always turning up at inopportune moments.

And then there’s my characters.

Argumentative bunch, the lot of them. Some get really pissy about what they’re doing. One even insists that I learn some more herbology than my usual “five seconds on google” that has covered my arse in the past.

I swear blind that common weeds have herbal applications, but I can NOT find anything anywhere that doesn’t focus exclusively in America. Y'know, because America is the only country that exists or is worth mentioning… [eyeroll]

Meanwhile, I get ten billion and one ideas on other subjects and the prize of being written goes to the plotbunny that chews the most painful part of my imagination in the most niggling way possible.

But, every once in a while, I run out of ideas on where to take everything. When that happens, I go over all my unfinished works [nineteen and counting…] and re-read them to lure a muse back and see where I’m going with it.

Sometimes, this works, and I make progress.

Sometimes, getting a sentence out and onto the page is like pulling teeth. Sometimes, it’s even harder.

On those days, I give up and go play some games.