Until this summer, my muse and I always traveled Discipline Road together. We'd ride along, two amiable pals, setting writing goals and knocking them down. Usually, we'd do it incrementally, a little each day, pounding the keys, building the story. After a while, all the increments would add up to something we deemed worthwhile. It was a system that worked well for both of us (I hope I'm not putting words into my muse's mouth).
Then, this summer we got a little lax. "We'll do some writing tomorrow," we'd say, often simultaneously. "Or maybe the day after. There's a whole mess of other things that need to get done first." So the muse and I would drift off our separate ways. I'd get busy on some new project--learning software, cleaning the house, cybersurfing, whatever. I'm not sure where my muse went most days; all I know is that he wasn't by my side. (Sometimes we did get together to crank out a few blog posts, but otherwise, I hardly saw him. Probably spent a lot of time at the beach, catching up on his reading.)
Now, don't get me wrong. I accomplished a lot this summer, and most of it was important stuff. Unfortunately, I didn't make much headway on my work-in-progress.
I missed my muse.
But, I'm happy to report, my muse returned home yesterday. And he's rarin' to go.
Which is nice.