My muse loves to play games with me. In the beginning, we have a firm word count in mind. And then we begin negotiations.
Muse: I don’t want to write this book. It was a mistake.
Me: It’s too late now, we have to make it work. It’s only a novella. We need 30K.
Muse: Fine, but we’re only doing the minimum. 30K and no more. I mean it. In fact, 28K is the longest I’ll go.
Me: Fine, there will be excerpts to bump it up. I’m in—I’m tired of long-ass books that take forever anyway.
Halfway through the book.
Muse: I hate this book. I’m done. I want to end it now.
Me: No! We need 15K more – we can do that in two days if we work our asses off. We got this!
Muse: I hate when you get all cheerleadery. Fine, but I’m not writing a word more.
At end of the book:
Me: Yes! Only 2K more, let’s wrap this up!
Muse: We’re not done with the story. WE need more scenes.
Me: I don’t want more scenes – we’re good, let’s put a bow on it and type the end. We’ll just make the deadline! It’s fine – it will work.
Muse: No, it won’t so just shut up and type. You think I’m going to put my name on a half-assed book just because you’re lazy? I don’t think so. We’re skipping dinner tonight.
Me: I hate you so much. You promised.
Muse: Don’t be a whiner.
Muse: Almost done.
24 hours later…
Me: Finally, the end. We wrote 12K more than we said we would. I’m exhausted.
Me: You there? Where’d you go? Did you disappear again? You better be back for the next book!
It’s a crazy, mad life but it’s my life.
And I love every moment.