A Muse

It’s a month since I stopped working as an art teacher and began working, once more as a full-time writer – this time on my second novel, The Middle Distance. I didn’t feel too well on my last day at school, then developed pneumonia which had me splatted for weeks, but the opium cough medicine that they prescribe here in Denmark helped – as did staying inside for just about all that time. My muse was appeased, and I slavishly spluttered my way through ten chapters.

Shaken but not stirred, I eventually made it out and to a holiday cottage in a rain-streaked and desolate stretch of Danish coastline. I didn’t write much, preferring instead to breathe normally and delight in becoming well again. Upon returning home, I started tinkering about with a few unnecessary home improvements; like painting radiators and the stone steps to our basement. I was skiving, and my muse was displeased.

No more DIY projects for me! I sit at my desk once more, my ankle packed in frozen peas after twisting my ankle on the aforementioned (well painted) steps.

Back to work…

035

Don’t mess with the Muse!

 

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