So, I woke up on Saturday with the book shouting in my head. 7.30am. I'm never up at 7.30 am on a Saturday. But when the book is on a roll you don't argue. I'd managed 10 pages the day before, which is a lot for a work day but this felt different. This felt like I could write for hours and the pages would just flow. It felt like I could easily write 30 pages in a day.
It doesn't happen that often. But sometimes it feels like you're just bursting at the seams with story and it's like watching a movie that you just transcribe.
My only problem was, my day was booked. Ballet, going down to Mum and Dad's for Father's Day. Eeek.
So butt in chair and I got another ten pages in a hour and a bit before I had to go out. Reluctantly go out because, I love the ballet, but I didn't want to lose the feeling.
Turns out the ballet wasn't that great. So I could kind of write stuff in my head while sitting in the dark. And today I've managed another six pages so far in between Father's Day and driving back to Melbourne, so I didn't stall the whole thing by not doing what the muse wanting completely. That's happened before, book goes from pouring out to dead stand still. Not pretty. So fingers crossed it will keep flowing for a while, even at a reduced rate but next time, I'm clearing the calendar.
Keep the muse happy, do the work. And take the gift days when they come. Grab 'em with both hands.