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! Voilà, 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?