SO, WHERE'S MY MUSE?

Back in July, just after I'd had a close call with an internal bleeding problem, I vowed to get at least one book in print by September.  I made it . . . but barely, and I worked my butt off getting it done.  October and November were also busy months, and I ended up getting another six books published.  Then I hit the wall, stopped working on books, and it isn't because I wanted to.  Although there's no rush at this stage of the game, I'm disappointed.

Getting books in print offers some rewards and some disappointments.  I should be excited, but I'm not, and that means the disappointments outnumber the rewards.  I'm satisfied with most of the books now in print, but they're not my best work.  A number of unused manuscripts had piled up around here, and since I hate to see time and effort wasted, the decision was made to go with them first.  Some of those books had been written nearly 30 years ago, and reworking them, getting them in decent shape for publication, was difficult for several reasons.  I've changed over the years, and what I thought was a good story then didn't measure up to my expectations as of late . . . and making changes can be dangerous business for a writer.  In some ways, I was a better writer back then because I was excited about the work.  My muse was singing to me, urging me to be creative.  She still comes around from time to time, but not like when I was younger and full of ideas . . . and energy. 

Zeus supposedly had nine daughers the Greeks called Muses.  Creative people owe their inspiration to whatever muse attends them, and I'm sure one of them found me.  I still do good work from time to time when it comes to composing stories, but the hard work of refining that work, making it fit for publications, needs more than inspiration; it needs determination and attention to detail.  Is there a muse for that?  If so, mine took a hike, went on vacation.  And without the muse, you're just wasting time trying to write.

I feel some stirrings, however - just a faint and distant voice urging me to go back to work.  I'm 90 percent finished with what is perhaps my best work as an author, a trilogy called Madrone.  All three books are written, have been submitted for printing but lack proofing and final approval from me.  And I can't pull the trigger.  These are new stories, recent creations, and they are a departure from the writings I've produced in the past.  Maybe that's what troubles me, makes me less confident about them.  But I know they're good work, and I don't want to mess them up with poor proofing and last minute changes.  I need my muse.  Sing, baby, sing!