Tell it to the muse, because she is not listening to me.

Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

My muse loves to surprise me! She won’t be wrangled or shoved in a slot for my writing needs. It was three in the morning, I was poked from behind closed eyelids, her pencil sharpened to the stabbiest point.

from Pixabay

Did she not hear me say, “I will write from 11/4 three days a week,” I had thought about it long and hard. Once I decided on the most beneficial time I began.

At this point I will admit that since stopping work, I never plan anything but medical appointments, and family visits.  I no longer wear a watch, except for my fitbit, again I admit, I never look at that, except to see if I actually got up from my desk in the last eight hours. I eat when hungry, or when the husband feeds me. I  get up when I need a pee, or the dog squeaks a toy at my feet and presses her nose into my knee.  Oh, and I prefer ‘pantsing’ when I write, which I know,  makes for a much more difficult editing process.

On days that I am unable to write, unwell, preoccupied, fatigued or just not in the space, I read. Scrabble, the word game is also my thing. But even, then my procrastination involves me writing on my blog. So what you have learnt, is that I write to rest, I read and blog and scrabble to procrastinate. There is a theme going here, I am just a wordy bird.

So, lets get back on point.  I made the decision to be,  … more organised. The Husband laughed raucously at that bit. I shaded sections of my spanking new planner, set reminders and post-it notes on the fridge, my phone and laptop. Dog walking poop picking (a fur mummies job) and feeding 6.30 /7.30 bin sorting, (eco freaking the husband calls it). Shower and clean myself and the bathroom and sort the washing and kitchen  by 10.30. Thirty minute catch up with ‘The Husband’ shared kisses and moans, laughter and news, then settle to write.

Well that was the plan. I think that word, … plan is what done it, scuppered the whole thing. 3 am poke poke, my muse awoke. At first, I ignored her mutterings, but she was persistent. It started with faint whispers, ones I had to listen to with great care. The next thing I knew, was that there was absolutely no use in staying in bed.

from Pixabay

So that was that, wrapped in pyjamas with my lucky pen, at my desk my day began. Before I knew it, it was dusk my mind was empty my muse asleep. So you see there is no use planning without the agreement of your muse. Mine refuses to comply or to enter into any discussion. I rise, when I am woke by the mutterings. I sleep when they sleep and then there is life.

Myself, Gardening, … along with my muse.

Are you a planner? or a seat of your pants type of person? Do you have a muse? answer please in the comments. I love to chat.

Tell it to the muse, because she is not listening to me.