I’ve been wanting to write.

I’ve been getting glimpses – tiny flashes of scenes.

I’ve yet to be able to just sit and write.

Last night however, just as I was getting ready to go up to my bed, my Muse gave me a full scene. It was an important scene . It was there with colour, meaning, sounds, and emotion. I knew I had to capture the barest of it’s essence on the page. I hastily scrambled to my computer, opened a new page on the processor and jabbed the keys. I caught it, just enough, from the words written I should be able to spin a full scene from it and make it rich and poignant.

Sounds great, right?

Yeah… it was a scene from the very last White Dragon Black novel. It was a scene in bloody book eleven!

Yes – sorry – but there are only going to be a maximum of eleven novels in the series. You now know my secret, my hidden agenda. I had just started the sixth novel when my Muse decided a long vacation, with her sisters, to the mediterranean, was a good idea. Months now – high and dry. And the one scene she slams so hard into my skull my ears were ringing? The eleventh damn book.

~sigh~

And people wonder why we authors drink so damn much!