Well, I accomplished one of my goals for today. I got some sleep, and in a nice comfy bed instead of a hard desk. Poor Mr. Thornton.
The phone didn’t ring once (a rarity here), all remained quiet and peaceful. I was pretty much out like a light for close to ten hours. Perhaps that was a suggestion I really needed it?
My brain felt rested enough to go back to work on my novel, which meant not only writing but more double-checking for historical accuracy re my collection of reference books and various websites. I am not a historian, of course, and certain things I am having trouble verifying ( I would go and choose to set the novel in 1750 instead of a more popular period for historical romances, but then I am hard-headed that way) but I did take some steps forward.
More than 500 more words completed along with some re-writing to (hopefully) improve other passages. I feel as I have made progress and that is a satisfying, uplifting experience. As if I am not beating my head against a brick wall, but actually peeking around it, and, to further mix my metaphors, there is light at the end of the tunnel.
I don’t think I actually get writer’s block so much as I get subject block. I mean, I can write pretty much any old time about something; I wrote professionally for ten years and let’s say it becomes a habit. I like to write, I need to write; I have to write.
I have a charming “Writing Muse” my sister (she of the Orange Beach condo) gave me as a gift. And it looks just like this:
There is a quote on it from the late author James A. Michener:
I love writing. I love the swing and swirl of words as they tangle with human emotions.
I like to say that line out loud. There is a wonderful rhythm to the words as you speak. I would love to hear Mr. A, my beloved muse, read that quote in his rich, warm, earthy voice of chocolate and velvet.
I love Mr. Armitage’s acting. I love the subtle nuances of each lingering glance, each sigh, each flicker of a lush-lashed eyelid and each bob of an Adam’s-apple in that gloriously swan-like neck. The mobile mouth with its amazing ability to smirk, smile, sneer, snarl and howl.
I love it when Richard speaks with words, and without them. But as a reader, a narrator and actor, I am certain he loves words, written and spoken. Words, I suspect, make him happy, too.
Thank you, dear Richard, for inspiring me. You are a wonderful storyteller. And I am trying to be.