There are many nights I go to bed looking forward to sleeping in, enjoying the warm snuggling blankets in the morning, the cool of the pillow, just letting my mind relax. No place to go, nothing to do, but sleep. On these days, however, the writers mind plays cruel tricks. And I hate it. Leave me alone I say. No use.
What happens is that an idea for a blog runs through my mind. Sentences and metaphors flow through the small creative part of my brain, over and over, and I can’t turn off the tap, can’t stop the flow. It also happens with short story ideas, or an idea for a novel, or a chapter. This is how I came up with the idea for the end of my e-novel “Loonies in Hollywood.”
The writers mind does not rest. Oh, it might take a break, hiding in the cobwebs waiting for an unsuspecting idea to fly into the web, then to pounce on it and shout its present to you, which for me is always when I awaken-and not when I am ready, damn it.
But what are you going to do. I try to resist, to forget, to turn off the thoughts, but in the end it wins out. I get up reluctantly, turn on the beastly computer and get to work. And doing this without breakfast, without my Chinese tea, without giving in to the mewing cat who demands to be petted. The cat is not my muse, she can wait.
I have no muse anyway. A muse is sweet, encouraging, inspiring; she teases, tickles, aids and abets. I should be so lucky. What I have is a decrepit part of my mind where evil lurks, waiting to strike me when I least expect it; an evil that laughs at me like Satan would if I signed away my soul. Wait a minute. I already did that and he never laughed. Did he laugh when Faust gave in? I can’t remember.
This is what a blog should be about, what social media should be about. Forget writing advice, forget promoting our books, or whatever we have to promote. It should be about sharing our insanity, to see if others are as crazy as we are.
I have to stop as my cat wants her treat. She looks at me with Satanic eyes. Even her mewing is sinister.