A Programming Change…and a Surprise!

After my last post (yes, I know I missed another weekend. More on that in a second), I had a conversation with my son. That’s not unusual; I talk to him nearly every day, even though he lives in another state (Confusion? Denial? Bliss? All of the above?).

“I read your post, Mom,” he said. “It was good.” He paused, and sighed. “But maybe don’t talk about the situation so much?”

He’s kinda right. I have mentioned the crap situation we’re in several times, without actually saying what the crap situation is (you’re just going to have to trust me on the level of crappiness. I assure you, it’s high). It makes sense, of course. It’s always at the front of my mind and taking up so much brain space, that I don’t really have room to think about other things.

Including writing.

I’m doing the best I can with my fiction; I still open my rewrite (nearly) every day, and try to work on it a little bit, and I actually hit my one thousand word goal ONE day last week. It’s a small victory, but I just don’t have the capacity to do much more than that.

Which leads me to the announcement teased in the title: You may (or may not) notice an upcoming change to our usual programming on this blog.

Worry not, loyal friends and readers, I’m not abandoning my blog, shuttering my laptop, never to be heard from again. Instead, I need to back away from posting on a regular schedule, until such time as I can: a) come up with some ideas to write about, which is more likely to happen when b) I’m able to free up some brain space for it. Ultimately, you’ll still see posts from me, but I’m giving myself permission to write them less regularly, while I focus on my mental health, myself, and my daughter. I’ll still be around. I promise.

In the meantime, you know what I’m going to tell you to do. I saw it expressed this way: Whatever’s good for your soul…do that. I love that. Do what’s good for your soul.

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In a previous post, I made a brief mention of a conversation I was imagining between Procrastination and the Muse. I would link to the post, but I’d have to find it and…I don’t want to. So if you care about the very brief mention I made, you’re going to have to look for it.

So, the surprise, as teased in the title, is that I have recreated that conversation. Just for you. That’s a lie. I had a screenshot of it and I recreated it from that.

One last disclaimer: I think I mentioned in whatever post I mentioned this in the first place, that this Muse is not even a little bit how I picture my own muse, because my muse is a real, live person who likely doesn’t know s/he is the muse in the first place. If you’re reading this, maybe it’s you?

For your reading pleasure, a teeny, tiny piece of fiction. Enjoy.

“When will it be my turn?” Muse asked, stomping a foot for emphasis and folding her arms across her chest.

“Pipe down,” Procrastination shot back. “I can’t hear the TV over your damned whining. And besides, I gave you like, two hours yesterday.”

“You didn’t give me anything! You made me arm wrestle you for it.” Muse twirled her hair around a long delicate finger, then released it, leaving one perfect ringlet.

The smallest hint of a smile played at Procrastination’s lips. Muse hated it when he smiled. It was creepy.

“I let you win,” Procrastination said. “I wanted to take a nap, so I gave you my weakest tentacle.”

“It didn’t feel weak to me,” Muse said under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Procrastination said, wrapping two tentacles around the Corporeal and pulling him closer. He was practically sitting in the Corporeal’s lap. “I’m not letting go today. I want to watch mindless television and eat garbage. All. Day.”

Muse groaned. “But if I don’t act on this idea, it might go away forever!”

“How is that my problem?” Procrastination licked the Corporeal’s face with his long, slimy tongue. Instinctively, the Corporeal scratched his face in the same place. Procrastination grinned.

Muse shuddered. “Can you give me an hour, at least?”

“If you want to work so bad, then do it.” With another long, scummy tentacle, Procrastination pointed across the room, while not easing his stranglehold on the Corporeal. “The computer is right there.”

“You know I can’t do it on my own,” Muse huffed. “I need the Corporeal.”

“Well, that’s too bad, then. Today’s my day.”

“There’s no schedule,” Muse said, indignant. “I should be able to get some time if I want it.”

Procrastination sighed. “Fifteen minutes.”

“An hour,” Muse countered.

“Half an hour,” Procrastination relented. “That’s the final offer.”

“Fine,” Muse said, holding out one dainty hand. Procrastination extended the same tentacle he’d used to point and Muse shook it.

“But you’ll have to wait until I’m ready.”

“When will that be?”

Procrastination shrugged. At least, Muse thought it was a shrug. Procrastination didn’t have shoulders. “When we’re finished.”

“With what? You’re not doing anything.”

“Precisely,” Procrastination agreed, flashing Muse his creepiest grin. “Sometimes doing nothing takes awhile.”