My muse is a no nonsense kind of guy. He doesn’t care if I’m inspired… tired…or retired. There he sits on his comfy couch glaring at me. “I’m not slacking on my writing,” I tell him. “Really.” He doesn’t believe me and speaks with a cocky British accent. “Please hurry up and finish that book. I need something to read besides the bloody bad news.” “These things take time,” I argue. “There’s a lot more to writing a book than you might think. I’ve got… Continue reading →
When a writer spends too much time with imaginary friends
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