My muse is a diva. Laid up with the flu these past days I would have had all the time in the world to write, but no: “Ewwww, body fluids leaking everywhere.” — “I want an unfoggy brain.” Whine, whine. “I can’t be creative with all those drugs.” She never complains when it’s wine instead of Ibuprofen and Cold FX. Bitch!

And today, feeling a bit more like myself, at least good enough to go and teach my Sunday workshop, AND DON”T HAVE TIME! VoilĂ , she’s all bright and sunny and wanting to write chapter 2, inundating me with lines and images and making my fingers itch. Did I mention, bitch?

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