Recently, while working on my WIP, I was frustrated that there was something missing with my main character. I had the physical description down, her past worked up, some of the plotting done, but something just didn’t quite feel right.

As I do so frequently while mulling problems over, I walk away and clean or vacuum something. Hey, don’t laugh. Agatha Christie admitted to doing her best plotting while doing dishes!

Grabbing clothes out of the dryer, I pitched them on the sofa and sat down to tackle my least favorite chore. The television was on and the Wimbledon was in full swing with the final match was coming up. Me being a sports fan has been limited to freezing winters and scorching summers watching my sons play football and baseball and I have never, ever watched a tennis match. But, as I went to change the channel, I caught a remark that the Williams sisters were playing each other for the Championship.

Wow! Two sisters playing each other for such a coveted title?

The sportscaster mentioned that the older sister had lost to the younger sister at a previous Wimbledon tournament and they were playing each other again.
Who were they? Why were they playing each other? How did their family feel about this? How did they feel about it? What would happen if the same sister won again? Or lost?

As I listened to the sisters’ story, I became spellbound with something that previously held no interest to me before. Through the commentator, I was able to glimpse into their lives, into their hopes and dreams, into their victories and defeats
.
Now I cared. I cared who won and who lost. Cared how their mom must have felt watching her daughters play and not be able to root for either one. I felt deeply for the sister that won and the sister that lost. For the first time, I deliberately watched the sports channel and an entire tennis match.

…to be continued

Everyone has a muse. Unfortunately, mine have been scarce lately but they actually showed up today. Let me introduce you to mine.

I have two muses:

Muse #1 takes the word ‘anal’ to a new level. A day with her is like a day with Martha Stewart. She refuses to show up unless working conditions are in perfect order. Dust on the furniture? Floors need cleaning? Desk not in perfect order? With a look of disdain, she tosses her recently highlighted blonde hair, crosses her exfoliated and tanned arms and demands to know how she is expected to work when exposed to such chaos? Examining her manicured nails, she pouts until the housework is completed. Then she turns a critical eye to the WIP. Research done? Character profiles finished? Plot points worked up? She taps her designer clad foot, impatience marring her perfectly made up face. It is clear she has just arrived from her favorite spa and is in a no nonsense mood. She demands candles and music ala Norah Jones, Leeann Womack, or some other soft, sexy ballads. When she is satisfied, she goes to work.

Muse #2 thinks Jimmy Choo is an item on a Chinese buffet. Nothing but jeans and boots for her. Like my other muse, she shows up when she wants but could care less about anything except what’s on her mind. She strolls in, her long legs pacing the floor, black hair swirling around her shoulders, words coming out fast and furious. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing – working, sleeping, trying to please Muse #1. If I tell her now is not the best time, she just cocks her head and smiles then slowly fades away. Her music runs to a more upbeat, bolder type like Shania Twain, Faith Hill, Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson, even Taylor Swift, Kenny Chesney and Eli Young Band. She and I had the best time one night sharing a bottle of wine and writing a sex scene that will probably never see the light of day.

It is very interesting when they both show up at the same time. As they eye each other warily, I do as any good writer with two muses would. I grab a book and go read somewhere.

Tell me about your muses…