Going out on weeknights is a death sentence for any working writer who wants to keep the story’s momentum going. By the time you get home and walk the dog, it’s already 10:00 or 11:00 depending… Writers who work full time already know this fun tidbit, but oftentimes friends and family of writers might not fully grasp it–especially for those who might be trying to write for the first time. (If you happen to be a friend or family member of a writer and watch his or her skull break open only to reveal a reptilian monster with red laser eyes aiming a death ray at you when you merely mention going out on a week night, cut the poor dear some slack…)

Anywho, last night, I finally started writing around 11:45. I felt like the muse was reclining on the couch next to me, inspecting her nails, saying, “Honey, you’re on your own. I’m done for the night.”

I worked out a few major plot points in the opening scene, mainly regarding the immortality status of my villain (ah, the joys of writing fantasy), and finally my hero, Michael, and his brand new sidekick were finally ready to chase the villain through the streets of New Orleans.

That’s when I encountered a slight problem: my villain got a head start. I had no idea where he was… (Ah, the joys of writing urban fantasy…)

I don’t know what happened next, but I woke up at 1:39am…

The imagined conversation between me and the muse as I hobbled to bed:

Muse (still inspecting her nails): Told ya.

Me: Oh shut up…

This is why writers who also work full time have conniptions when they have to go out more than once a weeknight…

(It’s also why I wrote this post between putting on my makeup and while I was walking to work.)

Toodles!