Pfeh. Work avoidance.

I've been hiding from my muse with a fiction book over my face.  Fiction irritates her if it's not MY fiction.  The Muse likes non-fiction lots - she rolls over and purrs when I read obscure academic history, for some reason.  But novels make her catatonic and irritable.

Here's the thing.

I wrote something five days ago, and after I got done with it, I was dissatisfied.  And I thought over it, and went, well, why would this character do this?  Does it really seem like something this character would do?  And the answer was "gee, no, Evelyn would think it was just wasteful to kill someone she could suborn."

And this terrified me, because I had introduced Evelyn, umm, two pages ago.  And here I was, I dunno, thinking about motivation and revising so that the plot would have better development.

I was thinking like a writer.  I wasn't prepared for it.  It terrified me so much I've been reading novels end over end since.  But it's the weekend now.  Soon I won't have the excuse of being sick and working two jobs a day to keep me from my novel.  The Muse is going to be wicked irritated when I come back to her.  I may have to assuage her with Coca-cola and bonbons.