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I’ve work to do. Lots of it. Yet my muse has decided that he—yes, my muse is male—would like me to focus on writing and not work.

I swear he picks the most random moments to whisper sweet-nothings—erm, to whisper those words of inspiration that get those creative juices flowing. I’ve noticed, though, that he’ll tend to pick these moments when I have to work. Authors/writers, I’m sure you all know what this is like.

Today, he’s been feeding me little tidbits for a new story. (As if I don’t have a lot to write already! ::chuckles::) I’m torn between working on what he wants me to write, or continue with what I’ve been doing. Mind you, I’ve been jotting down notes in a little notebook I have nearby.

I confess the temptation to write is so, so great. As the seconds pass, the urge grows and grows. It’s like that little monster living in your closet. It’s been waiting for the right moment to spring itself on you.

But then I remember what needs to get done. Stuff that I can’t keep putting off, else I’ll forget and never finish work in time.

::reaches out to stroke the notebook, eyeing the glittering pen lying beside it::

Soon, my precious. Soon!

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