Slow start

If you’re looking for Julie, I sent her on a walkabout. A long one, on the forest trail. With any luck she’ll snag some inspiration. A Muse can only do so much. Lead a horse to water and all that.
I tried to send her on a week-long walkabout, but she won’t listen to me. She’s got this damn fixation on doing a NaNoWriMo this month. There’s even an “official” Camp NaNoWriMo going on. Another first draft, she said. This is her third “first” draft.
Bloody hell.
I know what her problem is. Focus. Per usual. She’s got too many fecking things bouncing around in that head of hers, not the least of which is …
*slam*
“Are you kidding me? You sent me on a walk so you could do my blog post for me? What the hell?” My writer storms across the office and stops in front of the desk, hands on hips.
“You needed the walk, love. Tell me you didn’t work on the plot during your walk.” I venture one of my charming crooked smiles. “I dare you.”
Heh. I can see it in her eyes. She did, but she doesn’t want to admit it. “I can’t add words to my draft if I’m out walking. I’m behind, which you well know, and I won’t be able to catch up this weekend because I’m going to my dad’s.”
“You know, love, there is such a thing as voice-to-text.”
She rolls her eyes and groans. “Do you know what I do on my walks? Dude, I talk things through. That’s not writing, and if I used speech-to-text, it would be a mess. Seriously. Now get out of my chair and let me finish my post.”
If I could get her to direct that fire into her writing, she’d have no problem making her word quota. Easier said than done, of course. “No.”
Her jaw drops just a little. I love surprising her. She cocks a hip and crosses her arms on her chest. “I thought writing blog posts was outside your job description.”
It is. Sort of. “And here I thought you would appreciate the help since you will be away at your dad’s this weekend. That way you can focus on your first draft. Again.”
She offers a wry smile. “Very funny. You’re the Muse. You’re supposed to help me with this.”
“I’ve been trying, love. You’ve finally gotten the story rolling, haven’t you?”
“Sure. After three false starts. Half my word count is stuff I’m not going to use.”
“It’s a first draft. There’s going to be a whole lot of stuff you won’t use. That’s why it’s a draft.” I get to my feet and round the desk to face her. “I’m here, and I’ll be sticking around.” I lower my face to hers. “Don’t make me dig out my fedora and bullwhip.”
*stare-down silence*
“Fine.” Damn it. I shove around my Muse and drop into my chair, still nice and warm from him.
Anyway. Excuse me just one minute…
“Stop that.”
“What?”
God, he’s just so … er, aggravating sometimes. Yeah, let’s go with that. “Stop staring at me.”
He gives me that crooked grin of his. Is it warmer in here? “Then get to work, love.”
Arrgh. Okay. Bottom line, I’m behind on my first week word count. Like, way behind. I’m going to bring my computer or my iPad to my dad’s; between helping him sort stuff for the auction and digging through a couple boxes left with my name on them, maybe I’ll get a little time to do some writing.
Enjoy your weekend!

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