OR Better Late Than Never

I forgot that yesterday was Monday. Seriously. I apologize for being a day late. Let's get to it.

I am currently on one of my writing breaks. This is not necessarily something that I choose to do, it just seems to happen after I've finished something. I know there are writers out there who finish a work and then go right onto the next with scarcely a break between. I can't do that, even when the books involve the same characters from one story to the next. In my particular case, this time, I am dealing with two completely different sets of characters and the writing hiatus has set in. Even though I don't want it.

Missing Persons, as noted in the last post, has hit the airwaves. I don't know if anyone will even notice it, but at least it's out there, and that is a good thing. But as soon as that happens, my mind goes completely off topic and things like baking cookies, knitting, and reading something -anything- pull my attention. 

I have been trying to focus on the next BPC book. After all, that's what I'm supposed to be doing And while I have written some scenes, including the beginning and the ending (note here: having an ending is crucial for me, long before I write the rest of the book, or I don't actually have a book unfolding in my head) but all the points between A and Z are currently eluding me except in bits and pieces.

And that means two things: my dreams are becoming weird and full of strange stories. That happens when I'm not writing. My dreams write for me and all of the tales they tell me are bizarre, some of them downright grotesque. Part muse and part conscience, I suppose. That little grown-up at the back of my head telling me to get to work.

The other thing? Well, that means my house starts to come to life. I can't win for losing, eh? If I write about ghosties, my house comes to life. If I STOP writing about them, my house comes to life, sort of goading me on. I suppose one could say that maybe my house just has a problem. But I'm reasonably sure that is not the case, here. The activity, the noise, is different depending on whether I am writing, or I am not writing when I should be. But all of it is noisy and all of it is difficult to ignore. Especially when Jim is out of town, but that's a whole 'nother issue.

So here I sit at my computer, wondering when inspiration will creep in and take over so that I can relax into a new story. Readers aren't the only ones who revel in the story unfolding itself, you know. This writer, at least, is always curious to see where her characters are going because what they come up with is so much more entertaining than anything I could dream up on my own. The Beatles are on my CD player (I don't have the ability to listen to vinyl in my office, yet), I've got my iced tea, and I'm poised to write.

Any time, Muse. Hello? Anyone out there? Wait, I'm home alone. No one answer that...