Three months after finishing my poetry novel Unmasked, I still haven’t persuaded my imagination to come back from its exotic vacation. I don’t know, maybe I overworked it and didn’t give it the loving care it needed? What does an imagination need anyway to feel loved? Loads of junk food? Caffeine? Soda? Pint of ice cream? Forgive me for depriving it but I’m getting married in April and I’d like to abstain from all those kinds of food – until after the wedding of course (come on, let’s not kid ourselves, I’m no health buff :P).
It sucks though, to want to work immediately on my graphic novel (which of course I haven’t mentioned here in my blog – curse you rest and relaxation!) but getting distracted by Sims 3 and the growing pile of books I’ve bought and haven’t read. Yeah, I’m banning myself from going into a bookstore for the next 3 months or so – let’s see how long I can keep it up! Haha!
Anyway, as long as I’m not writing I wish my imagination took me with her to Bora Bora or some other exotic place. An alternate dimension perhaps? That would be really cool!
The writing books I’ve read say that there’s no such things as inspiration or a muse but I guess I’m stubborn that way. I bull-headedly cling to my notions of inspiration and at least it did me some good, I was able to make my first ever book. Yay. But how long will it last? Don’t follow my footsteps. Unless you want to write for a week and stare at the wall for the rest of the month, consider yourself warned. Serious writers do not believe in inspiration. There is no such thing as inspiration. Now repeat that 100 more times while I go back to staring at my wall and waiting for my muse to visit me again.