I swear to god I have an anti-muse living in my head. Shannon Stacey often interviews her muse, maybe I could serve an eviction notice on the anti-muse.
me: dude, go away
am: you and what army will make me? And by the way? Your face! [odd that he sounds a lot like one of my kids--pick a kid, any kid]
me: Hey, maybe this will banish you. I have here an email from my agent who says she loves the first few chapters of this story and wants to see more.
am: so? what makes you think I'm gonna shut up enough to let you write LALALALALALALALALALALALA and by the way? She's just one person. What does she know. This story is stupid.
me: [whimpering.] What will it take?
am: Bribe me and maybe I'll go away. I accept promises of chocolate and procrastination.
me: please, please, just let me finish this scene. I've been stuck on this scene for hours.
am: only if you immediately twitter afterwards. Make it about politics so you lose more readers. And by the way? Have you noticed how grungy your floors are? Aren't you ashamed to live in a house with those floors? Oh and by the way? You haven't blog-hopped in hours maybe you got a reply to that comment--
me: Okay! okay! I get that I need to make some sort of sacrifice to you. Here's a chocolate chip cookie, now shut up and let me work.
am: [munch munch munch.] Good. but, hmm, where's the milk? And by the way? Isn't it time to make more coffee? You better or I'll make you TIREDER. And by the way? This interview looks like crap. Put in some spaces would you? And by the way? I've picked the phrase I'm going to make you randomly throw in every single thing you write today. Have fun picking it out when you go back to edit. If I ever allow you to edit.