Went to bed in a funny mood and then had to get up suddenly to write what I thought would be two or three lines and turned out to be an alternative way to end my WIP. It's good, as in I really like it, but it absolutely screws up about the last ten chapters and implies I discard a significant chunk that would have tied up about a gazillion loose ends. Only I have to do bloody paid work today, so I'm not supposed to even think about the possible ramifications and yet I can't get it out of my head.

Grrr.

Why can't inspiration happen at conveniently scheduled intervals?

I was thinking it would be good if it happened, say, every Saturday morning as I walk back from the breakfast shop and then on alternate evenings during the week approximately fifteen minutes after supper (so that my long-suffering wife will have an occasional opportunity to talk to me).

Yes, it's so frustrating when you have to turn your brain to something else. Elizabeth Gilbert has a lovely story of a great singer-songwriter, can't remember which one, being driving on the freeway, when a new song suddenly arrived in his head, and he had no way of writing it down or recording it. And apparently he looked up and said to Whoever, 'Hey, can't you see I'm driving? You'll have to wait.' And He did.

Emma

The good news is that the story has never been clearer, but having lost two nights out of three to an irrascible muse, I'm starting to think inspiration is quite tiring. I just hope others think the story is as exciting as I do.