Recalcitrant Muse

I think I offended my muse.

Never happened before. I’ve had difficulties with parts of certain books, but I always had an idea of where I was going and how I’d get there, even if I wasn’t sure of the next scene.

Not right now.

For Christmas, my husband gave me a carved wooden frog. He’s kind of funky, sitting up on his haunches with his “hands” on his belly. His head is turned and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I named him Frank and decided he was my muse.

Now, I write short erotic and non-erotic (mostly erotic, though) fiction for Echelon Press and Amber Quill Press as well as novel-length romance. I write traditional contemporary romance and I write futuristic, fantasy, paranormal, and combo romance. I write single-title length and shorter length a la Silhouette Bombshell. So when we were in Woodstock, Vermont, on vacation and I saw a great Merlin figurine, I decided he would be my Other Muse. Frank would rule my regular romance, and Merlin my out-of-this-world stuff.

So far, Merlin’s been having a grand old time, giving me no less than three ideas for paranormal romances. He’s even got me thinking in a chick-lit voice, in first person! Two things I thought I’d never do.

Frank, however, is being pissy.

In an effort to avoid being the Queen of the Two-Book Trilogy, I’m working on the third book in my Brook Hollow Trilogy, and it’s just not flowing. It feels stilted and disjointed, episodic and cliché. I have a little bit of an idea what I want to happen, but getting there will be impossible from where I am now. I’m growing more and more frustrated and more and more behind every day.

I think I’d better buy Frank some chocolate.