Screaming ink

That damn pesky shideshow character has returned--and returned with a vengeance!! Dear God!

He's back to wreck havoc on my sedate post-AHWA life of picking garden vegetables for dinner and feeding the goldfish. Now he's insisting--insisting I tell you!--that I pick up my virtual pen once more and delve back into the land of the written word. Tis time to create, to reign as a god once more (and no blasphemy intended there, but when you write stories you are a god to your creations--you give them life, a world to inhabit, and trouble to overcome in order to test them).

I'm not sure I have enough scotch for this. Quick, to the batmobile! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na- okay, all good. The scotch shelf is full, the crystal tumbler clean, and the ice maker clanking.

My head is itching with fresh views of a horrific world shown to me by my shifty sideshow freak of a muse. He has well and truly parted the curtains, but more, he has taken me by the front of my shirt and dragged me backstage cos, to be honest, I haven't wanted to go here for some time. I was happy sitting in the rafters watching the show, laughing along with the clowns.

But no more! I have no choice. The muse is a demanding fellow and I have been lonely without him. And to prove my loyalty to him, I have delved back into my novel, changing what needed to be changed (I may not have written for nearly 2 months after completing NaNoWriMo, but I have at least spent this time researching the location of Parkton, and building my town). It's going well, to tell the truth, excitingly well.

I've managed to placate the shifty sideshow freak by getting a story (Desert Blood) accepted for publication in Ticonderoga's Dead Red Heart vampire anthology, but he's not settling for that. Oh no. Not now I don't have the AHWA to use as an excuse.

Now he's demanding I take this writing lark seriously. No more pussy-footing around. Time to aim high.

Oh-oh, he's found me again---what? No, I'm not writing on my blog. Honest. No, I'd never lie to one such as you. I wouldn't dare. Okay, okay, I'm coming. I know, we have writing to do.

Shit, where's my scotch?