As much as I’m creative, I believe in science. Adam and Eve is a great story, but Darwin trumped it. Handily. And anybody who doesn’t think so shouldn’t get the flu shot. Especially the newfangled H1N1 shot. Less of you to deal with… but I digress. Science is all about balance, cause and effect, equilibrium. So applying that to my creative life, I have to figure if there’s a muse that helps to drive me, there has to be an anti-muse that keeps me from getting to that magical place writers go to when their work just flows out of them like rainbows in a unicorn forest. Oh wait. That doesn’t happen. But what does happen sometimes is the work pulls you along for a pretty sweet ride.
Finishing my last manuscript was hellish. I thought it would never end. I’ve written and rewritten that book for over three years. I thought that if I had to look at it even one more time, I might have to kill a Republican. No, not myself. Never me. Someone useless. Hence, Republican. You know, like Joe Wilson. The Emperor of Asshat Nation. (Yes, some Republicans are great and perfectly useful,and some Democrats are jackasses, but I’m making a point here. Don’t get so damn touchy.) Anyway, with that novel finally off to be dealt with by my fabulous agent, I’m looking at my next project and out of the corner of my eye, I spot the anti-muse again. I mean, Jesus! Does that damn thing never take a vacation?
My mother used to call random unseen troublemakers Beelzebub. You know that guy, right? It definitely might be, but that name is a little too hardcore for me. And I feel like to deal with said a-m, I need to face it head on. So, anti-muse, I am naming you. Your new name is eynaK. Which is the backwards version of the current measure of giant asshattedness. And for the record, the person who will be kicking your unholy ass up and down my office is called Allegra. She’s my muse. And she rocks.
Right. So let’s get to work.