Learning Something New from Mr. Muse #writerslife

Ciao, amici!

That was as far as I had gotten when this happened…


I am already in my jammies, typing this in bed. It’s one thing for Mr. Muse to be in the house, but it’s another when he’s in the master suite. The master suite! My hubby would not be amused to see him here. But, alas, he’s working.

I’m also supposed to be working. Instead, I am blogging. Or was about to. Hence the interruption.

I scowl at him. “I’m not dressed for company.”

“I’m not company. I’m your muse.”

Truth be told, he isn’t dressed for visiting. His feet are bare and he has on plaid pajama bottoms and a US Navy tee—more clothes than he usually wears around my house. Still, the outfit seems somehow… intimate.

“What do you want?” As if I don’t know.

“I’m here to keep you on track. When you work, I have to work. But this? The last several hours have been a waste of your time and mine. You’re supposed to be working on outlines.”

“I like chatting with my blog friends.”

“But that’s fun, not work. You’re supposed to be working. You’re woefully behind.”

“Give me a break. It’s 9:30, and I just got done with a massive edit.”

“No. You finished the edit around 4:30. You’ve been working on a book cover since then.”

“Well, I was hoping to reissue Love Set in Stone this summer and release a collection of short stories this fall.”

“Oh, really? Have you done a final read of LSIS yet?”

“A long time ago.”

“That’s a no. Have you selected your short stories and edited them?”

“I’ve looked through a few files.”

“So, what you’re telling me is you’ve spent the last five hours working on book covers that may never be used when you could have been working on an outline for tomorrow. Or writing your blurb and author note. Or editing the next book on your list.”

“My vision was blurring.” Too bad it wasn’t now. Even though his shirt is baggy, I can somehow see every ripple of muscle under the soft cotton. And yes, I know it’s soft even though I haven’t touched it. I can tell by the way it… clings to him.

He sits on the edge of my bed, and the mattress dips. I come dangerously close to falling into him before I scoot away.

“If your vision was blurry, cara, how on earth did you work on graphics?”

He has me there. “My vision was word-blurry. My mind was muzzy. I needed to work on something that didn’t require thought.”

“And I’m sure everyone who looks at your covers will appreciate the concern that went into them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” He turns his head and holds a hand to his ear.

“Come on. Give me a break. I’ve been working fourteen, sixteen hour days.”

“Me, too.”

“Not taking weekends off.”

“Me, either.”

“I’m worried about Casey’s surgery tomorrow.”

“You aren’t really trying to use your dog as an excuse, are you? That’s unforgiveable.”

“No! I’m really concerned. You don’t have kids or pets” —at least, I don’t think he does— “so you can’t possibly understand why my thoughts are scattered and my heart’s not in my work.”

And for a change, Mr. Muse’s appearance isn’t what’s distracting me. I really am worried about my sweet doggo. That’s all I can think about.

Mr. Muse takes a deep breath, vents it slowly, then stands. “No, I don’t have kids. Or pets. But I have you. And all my other charges. When you suffer, I suffer.”

“You mean when my writing suffers.” The petulance in my voice even annoys me, so I can imagine how he must be feeling.

But he doesn’t scold me. Instead, he walks to the door, looks back, then shakes his head. “No, cara. That’s not what I mean.”

Then he leaves.

That wasn’t exactly the note I wanted to end the workday on. Even if—especially if—my workday was ending right before bed. But Mr. Muse surprised me. I didn’t realize he cared that much.

And now I feel guilty for not working harder for him.


If I take a while to respond to messages, it’s because I’m at the vet with one of my dogs. When I’m home and he’s comfortable, I’ll catch up. Please be patient with me. Thanks.

Update: Casey is home and resting somewhat comfortably. He didn’t take well to the cone, and even with it, somehow managed to rip a stitch. I had to take him back to the vet and they used wound glue instead of numbing him again and re-stitching. He now has a scarf taped around his neck and there’s no way to protect his forehead, but we’re keeping an eye on him and hoping he doesn’t scratch or rub and make things worse. But the good news is he’s home and, although woozy, in decent spirits.

42 thoughts on “Learning Something New from Mr. Muse #writerslife

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  2. Sorry so late to the game, but glad to hear Casey is doing well! Pretty subdued for your Mr. Muse, it seems, or maybe you’re right in that he’s just wearing more clothes than usual–and not out working, erm, I mean working out in the yard. Off to try and catch up on the next posts!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think he just uncharacteristically took pity on me.

      Then again, Casey is incredibly loveable. (Max is, too.) Mr. Muse was probably feeling bad for my dog. I suspect he won’t take it so easy on me the next time.

      Liked by 1 person

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  5. First, and most important, big hugs and sloppy kisses for dogo… I hate when they’re unwell 😓
    Second, why is your muse so hunky? Mine’s a grizzling old woman who jabs me with her walking stick 😫
    Third, does hubby read your Mr Muse posts? He might get a little jealous of said Mister…. 🤗

    Liked by 1 person

    • Casey is grateful for the hugs and kisses. He absolutely loves them. (And I’m grateful, too.)

      I suspect my muse is good looking for two reasons: 1) To capture my attention. I have a tendency to ignore things when I’m so motivated. Mr. Muse is kind of impossible to ignore. And (2) as a bit of punishment. Let me issue this warning to you now—never question the Order of Muses. They will, in fact, find a way to get even.

      My beloved husband does not read my posts. In fact, I’m not even sure he knows my blog address! But none of that matters. We trust each other implicitly, and he doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body. Nor should he. He has my heart. Always has. I don’t know a better man and can’t even conceive of spending my life with anyone other than him. 💖

      Liked by 2 people

  6. Sending healing thoughts and prayers for Casey, poor boy.
    I know how you feel, I haven’t been able to focus on my writing for a couple of months now. Maybe I need you muse to kick my butt! (Oh, wait. That piece of anatomy is supposed to be planted in a chair 🙂 )

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks. He’s a tough dog, but he’s still like a baby to me.

      My muse can be… insistent. I can ask him if he’s taking on clients or if a colleague of his is, but you might regret it! (And yes, get your butt in that chair and write!)

      Liked by 2 people

    • I think my brain just bounces from one creative outlet to the next. I’m not very analytical, so I’m always interested in some form of art. But covers are like candy, and I need to be outlining (which I usually enjoy, but today, it’s more like eating beets {shudder}).

      Liked by 2 people

  7. Oh my goodness, Staci, your muse is a hard taskmaster! It’s a good thing he is so handsome or else he might just get kicked to the curb. Prayers for your sweet doggie! I hope it’s a full and quick recovery.

    Liked by 1 person

    • He did surprise me. Made me think of Sally Fields at the Oscars. “He likes me! He really likes me!” LOL

      Thanks for the kind words about Casey. It’s supposedly an easy procedure, but until I have him safe and sound at home, I’ll be worried.


  8. I had no idea Casey was having surgery, poor guy. Take care of your doggo. I’ll be saying prayers all goes well.

    Nice visit from your muse. He might have showed up to scold about writing, but he left on a different note 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • There must be something in the handbook about showing up when it’s the least convenient. I’d ask to see their rules and regs, but I suspect I’d get scolded for it.

      Thanks for the wishes for Casey. I’ll post an update at the end of the post later today.

      Liked by 1 person

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