I sat, sat, sat. A few sentences made it to the page only to be quickly eaten by the deletion key like a game of pac man. It’s that dreaded moment authors hate. The moment when your muse doesn’t just take a break but boards a space shuttle and heads to the moon without waving goodbye.
So, my muse has jetted off to outer space, sick of my demands and feeling little respect for all her hard work, and I’m left feeling creatively flat. All I can say is her timing sucks. I am part way through three manuscripts and plotting another that keeps nudging me on the shoulder despite my hard elbow in its metaphorical stomach.
What is a writer to do? I’ll ignore the most obvious answers; use the time to market, add a little spit and polish to another manuscript with its toe almost over the finish line, schedule the next month with writer related tasks, check in with my editor, write a blog, blah, blah, blah and so on.
What I do is…change into my work clothes, grab my sander and sand the varnish off my kitchen table. Next, attack a wooden ladder destined to be painted, stressed and turned into a bookshelf. Then maybe I’ll fire up the circular saw and start cutting the wood I will use to create my planter boxes.
At some point during all of this, my muse will burst back into my head, while I’m ankle deep in sawdust with the circular saw’s shrill ring buzzing in my ears, and demand to know why I’m not slavishly punching out sentences on my keyboard. She’s bossy you see, and I always comply.
Happy writing, reading or living life.
T.J. Adams x