An Appeal To Calliope

It would seem that I have some unexpected time on my hands. A mini vacation of sorts, that will cost me more money than I can really afford, but will provide a much needed rest.

And what should I do with this time? Watch movies? Complete all the sudoku puzzles I can? Dance around the living room with Pangur Ban? Browse Facebook every five minutes?

I am a mastermind at murdering time. But what I really want to do is have a break through on Shadows On The Wall. The wall that Cameo has put up to block me is incredible. I'm going to need a truckload of C4 and a nuclear bomb to clear it.

I'm stuck right at the point just before the climax of the story. I've worked on Selkie Dance a bit lately, but my heart's not really in it. I need to finish SOTW. Help!

I hereby formally appeal to the muse Calliope. I need my inspiration back, and I need it soon. I must take advantage of this unexpected time!

A Trip To The Levee

A stork lifted off the water, canting gracefully through the trees. Its snow white feathers flashed through the dead brown trees like a beacon. On the other side of the river another stork called to it and they met in the middle, diving toward the water and then lifting back into the sky, side by side.

The duck shook its head and then dipped its neck back down into the water in search of lunch.

Ripples in the water flowed with the cool breeze, while underneath the river flowed the opposite way with deceptive strength.

Across the river a hawk landed on one of the trees. Her wings stretched out to enjoy the breeze as she balanced precariously on the edge of a branch. She called out for her mate, and the sound echoed across the river, but he did not come. She called again and then took off, circling the trees and eyeing the water.

Damon's Ultimatum

Damon's Ultimatum...Translation: I got myself in trouble with my character and now I am going to be punished accordingly.

Last night we were driving home from my parents house, Damon and I, that is, and he said in his normal quiet tone, "Will you be working on the book tonight?"

I knew he meant In The Darkness Remain, for I had stupidly told him I wanted to start the prologue soon. I had, also stupidly, thought aloud to myself that I should write it that night, while I was in between reading books.

I hesitated before answering him. I knew he had heard my still liquid-like plans and I knew he realized how easily I would push them aside. At the same time, I really did want to work on the story. It's just, I had been awake since 8am (a near unbelievable feat for me) and it was already 11pm...and I was tired...Okay so I'm rationalizing. But really, what did he expect? We've known each other for almost 8 years, if he doesn't know me by now then there is really no hope.

So I stopped hesitating finally and said, albeit haltingly, "I had considered it."

His voice somehow went lower as he said, "I think you should."

In fairness, I do know that tone. I know it means trouble, and I know that if I decide to ignore it I will regret it.

As I walked into my apartment and set my things down, I went through my normal routine: let Pangur out of my room, feed Pangur, put away laundry(aka throw it on the ground and hope it puts itself away), make cup of tea, turn on Sam, sit in front of Sam sipping tea, check email, check ads, check sales, check blog....

So 12:30am rolls around and I'm really tired now. I think about picking up my newly arrived Sherrilyn Kenyon book, the 2nd in Nick's trilogy!, and put it back down because I feel guilty... I turned on the TV, watched a rerun episode of an old sitcom...turned off TV...fell asleep at a 1am.

Long story not so short: I'm in trouble. I am now forbidden to touch any of my newly arrived unread books (2 at the moment with a 3rd still in transit) until I have written the prologue. Those of you who know me well understand what a horrible sentence this is. Not touch books? Not read my new books? WHAAAT?

Well, like I said, I always regret it when I ignore that tone from Damon. There is no question of me not adhering to this edict either. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Alas, there shall be no more reading until In The Darkness Remain is properly started. I never thought I would miss Angela as a main character after finishing Die For Me Again, but she is a fluffy bunny compared to Damon's slave master approach.

...hmm...slave master... *evil smile*

Complaint Unto The Cursor

Written yesterday, on my bed, staring at Sam's screen...
WARNING: Completely Random Material!)


Where does the will to write come from? Why does the dreaded Block occur?


As I sit, staring at the blinking cursor I ponder why I cannot write. I feel the draw to my computer screen…I have spent the last few hours pouring over notes and ideas. I have felt the keyboard whispering my name, pulling me closer. Still, as soon as I arrive here nothing comes to my fingertips. My brain knows the stories, knows the plot and the characters better than it knows my own life, but still nothing.


Who invented the cursor? They should be taken out and beaten.


It’s blinking taunts me. What’s the matter writer? Don’t you have anything to say? Yes, dammit! I have heaps to say, they are built up in my mind like piles of gold. Piles of refuse. What is the difference besides in the beholder? If one can look at a pile of gold and think it refuse, then cannot one look at a pile of refuse and see treasure?


Treasure of thought cannot be put down in anything but words. Words. Why dost thou elude me now?


Hours on my hands and all I feel is the pull of housework. Yes, I should be cleaning. I should be vacuuming…but instead I give my hours to a blank computer screen. Why, why can I not fill said screen with anything other than bizarre rambling?


My mind, filled with the desire to write, but not the words. I wander, directionless and tired, through the corridors of my thoughts. There is no one else here right now. No characters stopping me for a word or two, no beasties running rampant in need of proper caging.


Don’t I just know why. It has occurred to me, just this moment, that my characters and beasties must be quite a deal smarter than me.


Who takes the time to read anymore? Why should I write, if no one will read? Can my words be sustained simply on my own enjoyment alone? I know not. From the beginning I have had those willing to read and respond near me. It has been their encouragement that has drawn forth the stories…the thought of their eyes feasting on my words that has brought forth the most delicious chapters and morsels of phrase.


Without viewership my river of inspiration runs murky and sluggish. My desire to delve into the plumby dark depths ebbs and I sit idle..


Staring at the cursor...