As a friend said to me, ‘she’s a mercurial bitch’… And she is. It is. He is. Whatever. Either way, it’s a pain in the ass when I show up and the muse doesn’t.

More often than not, lately at least, I’m foraging in the dark, waiting for the bright light of A-HA! Waiting for the path to show itself. I plug along, yes, but the writing is never in the right order or its never the right tone. All the pieces and parts are scattered until the muse stumbles through the door and blows sprinkles everywhere that I finally figure it out.

It’s at the end. The week before a book is due for publication or submission. The week of late into the night writing the puzzle pieces into the finished product.

It’s frustrating. Terribly frustrating. It’s how I’ve worked in recent months. I’m easily distracted, hard pressed to make sense of things, but the one thing I’m on is blocked. No, that demon hasn’t been to visit in a very long time. Something I’m completely thankful for.

Maybe my sprinkle scattering muse is trying to teach me a lesson. Maybe it’s a let go and don’t force it lesson. Maybe it’s a keep a weather eye on the horizon lesson. Or maybe, shes/he/it just relishes the pressure of being last minute.

I’m not complaining, you see. I’m grateful for the sprinkles each and every time. Just an earlier arrival date would be nice once in a while…

But until then, I’ll keep dumping the box of puzzle pieces out of my head and onto the page…

The sprinkles will come.

~lissa