I’d been experiencing such great writing mojo. It was wondrous, the sort of writing experiences sought by authors everywhere. The writing flowed freely. Editing and revisions tailored the passages into cleaner, more reader-friendly (and story-advancing) prose.
Then, Wednesday came.
There wasn’t any indication Wednesday would be the day that the mojo didn’t come, but Wednesday was the day the mojo took off. Maybe the rain chased the mojo away, or perhaps they had a dental appointment.
I asked the muses where the mojo had gone. The muses shrugged, palms out in classic “I don’t know” non-verbals. “Who knows how the mojo works,” they said. “Mojo has a mind of its own.”
Their response surprised me; I thought the muses supplied the mojo, a position that amused them. “As if,” they said.
I struggled through Wednesday. Writing a short chapter (about a thousand words) consumed hours. Carving and shaping it sucked another thirty minutes. Even then, I was like, geez, that needs work.
Then, of course, I walked away.
The next day, the mojo showed up late but still, good to have them (don’t know the mojo’s gender, to be honest). Fixed that Wednesday chapter and then pushed on. With mojo encouraging the muses (or is it the other way), the writing time flew. Words poured out.
Beautiful. Off I went, walking, writing in my head as I went, pursuing chores, then back home for lunch and household tasks. All the while, the mojo stayed. The muses kept whispering more.
Quietly (avoiding attracting the cats, scaring off the muses, or alarming the mojo), I opened my computer and added another page. Off for more holiday running around with my spouse. The mojo remained, and the muses kept whispering, “Add this. Write that.”
Back home, more was added.
Then, showering this morning, more scenes dripped in. “Hurry,” the muses said, “let’s go write.”
“Come on,” the mojo said. “You gonna write or what?”
Yes, I was gonna write. At page two hundred, with a goal of keeping it less than three hundred pages (which looks promising), I believe it can be completed by the middle of January. Earlier is possible (as is a shorter novel) as, tying ends together, I revise the page count down.
Got my coffee. The muses and mojo are present. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.