So what’s your muse like?
I was just considering how negative I sounded today. Well, I’m in a funk. I won’t repeat ad nauseum how much I screwed up this stupid story, but I did. (Okay, I know once I sit down with a calm, clear mind, it won’t be anywhere near as bad as it feels.)
But there are some days I like my funks. And I have the coolest muse. Like, take today for instance. We’ve been hurling insults at each other all day. I mean, really tearing each other to pieces, like growling dogs ripping flesh with our teeth, blood gushing from our mouths.
(Uh-huh. Read that last sentence. That’s how badly writing went today.)
For some odd reason, I take a sick sort of pleasure from these days. I have no idea why. It’s not like fighting with DH. He doesn’t fight well. He goes silent-angry or he sulks. And if I hurled insults at him, I don’t know. I think he’d leave or something. It’s just past the line, you know?
But when the muse and I yell at each other, we kinda enjoy it. We take a gritty pleasure out of going for the jugular. I rant and rave at the insanity of writing and he rants and raves at the ineptitude of, um, me. He shreds my writing to pieces and I do the same to him.
It’s cool, ’cause neither of us get hurt feelings or pays much mind to what we say to each other. It’s like a contest of sorts, gets our competitive spirit revved.
We use the energy as fuel to gear ourselves up for the next round in the writing ring.
Whatever works, I guess. So what’s your muse like? What’s your relationship like?