when the muse bites you on the ass...
Apr. 19th, 2005 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lauraanne_gilmanyou jump.
Driving home tonight, my mind wandered from the potential epigraph of the in-progress work, to a conversational-with-myself riff on something within the epigraph, to a random sentence derived from the riff on the epigraph, to an evolution from the random sentence, to some questions about the mythology of the subject of the evolution, to a modern counterpart of the mythology, to tying it in to what I really want to say...
and in the space of three red lights (about ten minutes) I had a title, a main character, a theme with a vague structure, and a closing line that may become the opening line.
and it really is all my muse's fault. As usual.
Mind you, I have even less time than usual to write this thing, since I lost a number of badly needed days to the ick, and it's not sure if it wants to be a short story or a novella, anyway (oh damn, if it is a novella, it not only fits in well with the romantic fantasy novella seris I've been playing with, but in fact gives it a starting and finishing point, oh DAMN you lizard backbrain!).
Going to go away and have a nervous breakdown now.
And that, dear friends, is how my mind works. Scary, no?
(note 1: "epigraph" is one of those words that gets silly when you use it too often)
(note 2: the sore throat has now developed into pressure in the ears and coughing. My boss has a similar cough, about a day further along than mine. He has been informed he must die. He's cool with that.)
Driving home tonight, my mind wandered from the potential epigraph of the in-progress work, to a conversational-with-myself riff on something within the epigraph, to a random sentence derived from the riff on the epigraph, to an evolution from the random sentence, to some questions about the mythology of the subject of the evolution, to a modern counterpart of the mythology, to tying it in to what I really want to say...
and in the space of three red lights (about ten minutes) I had a title, a main character, a theme with a vague structure, and a closing line that may become the opening line.
and it really is all my muse's fault. As usual.
Mind you, I have even less time than usual to write this thing, since I lost a number of badly needed days to the ick, and it's not sure if it wants to be a short story or a novella, anyway (oh damn, if it is a novella, it not only fits in well with the romantic fantasy novella seris I've been playing with, but in fact gives it a starting and finishing point, oh DAMN you lizard backbrain!).
Going to go away and have a nervous breakdown now.
And that, dear friends, is how my mind works. Scary, no?
(note 1: "epigraph" is one of those words that gets silly when you use it too often)
(note 2: the sore throat has now developed into pressure in the ears and coughing. My boss has a similar cough, about a day further along than mine. He has been informed he must die. He's cool with that.)
