He just. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

"One reason I don't suffer Writer's Block is that I don't wait on the muse, I summon it at need." - Piers Anthony

So, I was a few minutes late to work today. Arrgh. I followed my normal routine; I even got out of bed and started the routine about 10 minutes early.

Problem is, my inner muse has a couple of settings.  On one setting, he's there guiding the story along relatively quietly.  That's a good setting for writing, because it allows me to write and then go to the refrigerator to get a snack, and then write some more.  A controllable muse is a good muse, I always say.

Then there's the other setting, the firehose one, the one he was in this morning.  He just.  Wouldn't.  Shut.  Up.  I went out to the computer and put about 800 words on the page before it was time to head into the bedroom to shower, shave, and all that et cetera stuff you really don't want to read about on a blog.  I had to go back out not once but twice to add more stuff to the manuscript.

Trust me, I'm not complaining.  When a writer gains inspiration like this, the only thing that can come out of it is goodness in the story.  Well, that, and tardiness at work, which isn't good at all.

*sigh*

Anybody know a way to get an answering machine for the muse to talk into?

-TOSK