My muse has gone missing - lost, stolen, AOL, hiding, ill, imprisoned or (please not) dead. It is short story challenge month at Forward Motion, and when I stop to think of what to write, my mental landscape is as sere as Earth's moon. I don't see myself as someone who writes darkly, not horror or black humor or cynicism - but this may be the year.
In the absence of inspiration from within, I read and intimidate myself with the deep insights and sparkling wit of published writers such as Mary Balogh. I re-read books by such authors as Eluki bes Sharhar and S. L. Viehl, and marvel at the plot twists -- how do they DO that?!
Stopping by Paperback Writer's blog the other day, I found one of the answers: Viehl has a free e-book for download, a clever writing manual with answers to questions such as mine.
Perhaps, as the Book says, there is a time and a season for everything. Perhaps this is my season to write something on the dark side. I'm in the mood for it: missing my mother, impatient for my thyroid to recover and award me energy to function, looking at the short end of life with more questions than answers.
Hmm. Lemonade, served on the sharp side, coming right up.