Sneaking around

Why is something sweeter when you have to sneak it?

Like an office liaison, my dates with writing are when no one is looking.  I write in between doing real work, and I write at home between gaming times.

But why is it, when I get the nod that it’s okay to write, the muse runs away?

I have trained myself all these years to sneak.  I first started writing during school, when I was supposed to be taking notes from the teacher.  I wrote stories.  In college, sometimes, if the subject was boring, I did the same thing.  I wrote when the urge struck me, except during a five-year dry spell.  Then I picked it up with a vengeance and have been trying to write more often.  Since last October, I’ve been trying to write daily.

I’ve been sneaking writing at work since 2007, when I started here.  Short stories, scenes, that kind of thing.  Not novels.  Novels are too big.  Too unwieldy, especially when I have to use my head for some things.

I was out on leave and wrote Grimaulkin’sfirst draft in a month.  Pantsed it before I knew what Pantsing was.  It’s how I wrote all my novels, so I never thought that it was “bad”.  (According to Writer’s Digest, it is.)

Came back, and the writing dried up to daily stories for the game.  So it is now.

Although I’ve been writing Tamerlane these last few days, and a bit of Grimaulkin.  But today, nobody’s around, and those who are around don’t care.  So…why can’t I write?

Because the muses know that they can’t whisper in my ear during the hectic moments of the day.  They know that I am receptive, able to listen.

They’re not trained for that.

They’re trained to drop little things, hints.  Teasers.  In the back of my mind, they’re working on the full story.

Like I got to a point with Tamerlane last night, and thought, “Oh…OH!  I know where you’re going with this!  But will the reader know after I dropped this hint?”

So I have an idea consciously of where we’re going, but will I end up there?

I’m going to go back to Tamerlane, see if I can write more.