So this morning my husband left with my four year old son to start a camping trip.  That leaves just me and my kindergarten daughter to hold down the fort.  Oh, and lest I forget the idiot dog.  I know I feel much safer knowing the four-legged-moron is here to bark at every butterfly and snail in the yard.  Anyway, the point is, I hope to get a lot of work done.  Only the frustrating thing is that the Sisters have pulled me away from a really juicy, plot thickening scene in book 2 and are forcing me into yet another round of revisions to book 1 in their Nazi like quest for perfection.  I know the Sisters are right, but to be honest, I’m really kind of sick of those people.  Not the Sisters, the characters from that book.  They’ve done their thing and now I kind of just want them to go live their lives and leave me alone for a bit.  I really want to just sell it and be done with it.  It’s a great story and I’m very proud of it, but enough already.  Ya know?

One of my ceaseless frustrations is derived from time, or rather the lack of it.  People ask how I can go on the way I do, but my answer is the lack of time and some sort of wierd biological clock.  As it turns out, I’ve inherited one from my children and the other from my mother.  No matter how tired I am, I can be quite seriously falling asleep at the dinner table but, come 10 o’clock and *BING*, I’m wide awake.  All of my creative juices start to bubble and boil over during the witching hours, and I have to very sternly force myself to go to bed around midnight or 1 am.  Of course, that’s a problem when I have to wake by 6:30 to get the kids up and everyone to work and school.  Therefore, I operate most of my life on five hours of sleep or so.  This week has been particulary difficult.  Thursday brought a concert in a near by city that got me into bed at 2 am, up for work on Friday and then to a school function that evening, Saturday brought a dance recital, and Sunday is my daughter’s sixth birthday party.  The point is, it’s all catching up to me and, whew!, am I tired.  My writing time has dwindled and I find myself restless because of it.  Of course, many would say the solution is simple really.  Just go to bed at a reasonable hour, they would say.  Of course, I say pbbbbtttt to that.  Obviously the best solution is to write my way to a new career where I can stay up all night and no one expects me to be up at such ridiculous hours in the morning.  But for today, I think a nap is in order.

Unfortunately, the Sisters all have “real” jobs that pay the bills while we write and blog our way to the careers of our hearts. Today was the kind of day where you’re pretty sure the only reason you came to work was that someone was going to need a person to yell at. All I can say to myself is, “WRITE FASTER”. I don’t think I was made for this daily grind sort of nonsense.

It seems the Sisters know EXACTLY what they want and have ABSOLUTELY no idea how to get it.  After much gnashing of teeth, whining and sleepless nights, the lightbulb has finally gone on.  There has been an epiphany of sorts.  We can see clearly now, the rain is gone…..I’m channeling Johnny Nash in my excitment.  Anyway, hold on to your socks…the Sisters are coming and they’re gonna rock this internet.

I’ve been thinking a lot about parents today.  I am a mom, in fact all three of the Sisters are, and it goes without saying that the Quills adore our children.  I had a very nice day with my family, but I know that one of the sisters had a less than wonderful day today.  I know that Isabella and I can only imagine how stressfull it was for our Sister and brother on this Mother’s Day.  The two of us are lucky enough to still have both of our parents, but one Sister is not so lucky, and my heart hurts when I think of her family on this day.  I know that Isabella joins me when I say to our Sister and brother, “I love you.  If I could make it better I would.  Come home soon.”  Being a writer, I feel that I should be better able to express myself. My ineloquence frustrates me.

That poor Muse.  I’ve locked her kicking and screaming in the hall closet.  Why you ask?  Why would I be so cruel to such a fickle lover?  Why would I risk her anger and wrath, knowing full well that she may forsake me?  Because the new Sookie Stackhouse novel is out!  Yippee!  Give me a day, sweet, dear Muse, one day.  A day and half tops, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

The muse has bonked me over the head most aggressively again.  Barring any shenanigans  from the short people in my house, THERE WILL BE WRITING TONIGHT.