As I swim a little further into the deep end of my writing, I continue to discover myself as a writer. And this little quirk is sort of annoying.
My Muse is a night owl. She comes at around 2:30 am and flitters around in my brain, diving into the nooks and crannies of my writing. The novel I've been working on obsessively had a pretty clear outline. Last night this winch woke me up at 2:15 and stayed beating her drum until she had me convinced I had to change a major plot point. Basically I'd planned on killing Character A and now I'm going to kill Character B. Why? Because my muse loves Character A and can't stand the thought of seeing him die.
Sigh. Okay Muse. I don't want to make you unhappy.
Onward. I've written a whopping 27,000 words in an amazingly short amount of time. The book is oh so close to being first drafted. The better part is I have a bossy critiquer who's coming up on my tail about two chapters behind so I'll have the first revised version done shortly after the first draft.
And Muse. You're awesome. I love this book.