The Muse and the Monkey...

The title of this blog seemed appropriate seeing as these two are at odds every minute of my day...

Welcome to my blog. I'm not so good at blogging daily, but we'll see. You can expect rants and raves about things like writing romance, knitting, web sites I love, and potty training. I'll try not to bore you.

I expect (or hope) to see the muse once a day or so (Or even once a week!! Hello?? Mr Muse?? Are you out there??). He's supposed to come help me with these Harlequin-wanna-bes that are eating up my computer memory. I've got a few on the go (ADHD-- it's not just for kids), all of the Intrigue/American variety. Unfortunately, my muse doesn't show up as often as he should these days. I think he's afraid of the monkey.

Now the monkey, I see the monkey every day-- usually between 5 and 6 am, even though I don't have to get up for work until 7. You see, he's 2 and hasn't figured out yet that sleeping in is cool. He also hasn't worked out that 'Micka Mouse' is not on that early no matter how loud or long you cry. So, every morning I'm woken by a sweet little voice saying 'Mummy... Mummy?' Followed by a not-so-sweet screaming and wailing until I drag my grumbling, swearing, rear end out of my nice warm bed to retrieve him.

And so I get up and start my day. Coffee, shower, clothes (for both of us), a drop off at 'school', and I'm off to work. I spend 7 1/2 hours a day being smart-- or trying to be. I love my job-- no really, I do. I work in cancer research. When I was 5 my grandfather died of cancer and for the next 12 years I told anyone who asked that I was going to 'cure cancer'. Recently, a surgeon told me that even if I live to be 105 it will never happen. It's true, but I still think that every bit of tumor I remove and bank is one step closer to that cure. So, my days are split between educating patients, standing in on surgeries (mainly liver and colorectal these days), and dissecting tissue for research.

After work, I pick up the monkey and bring him home. For the next few hours, he tears around the house like a Tasmanian devil before fighting over 'night'nights'. If I'm lucky, I get a whispered 'Yub ew, Mummy'. Then I go downstairs to eat, study (for work), knit (to stay sane-- it really is meditative), or write. Lately, I'm just too damn tired to write. I can't even string 5 words together, let alone 1000 (my goal for each day).

Nonetheless, I am trying to finish a MS that has been in the works forever now in hopes of pitching it at the Harlequin Intrigue Editor Pitch. I need to write about 2 1/2 more chapters and polish the whole thing. I also need to write a one-page synopsis (oh God) and a high-impact log line for the pitch. All of this before November.

So, I think I'll have to stock up on coffee and try to convince my muse that the monkey doesn't bite (he did for a short time, but it was just a phase). Starting now. I'll keep you posted...

K