Dear Finicky Creature of a Muse,
My plans were set.
I’d plotted.
I’d outlined, as much as a panster does.
I’d dreamed of dialogue and scenes.
And in one weekend, you buggered it all up. Tossing my ideas out the window for a new shiny idea.
Thank you. Thank you so very much.
Except not at all.
Love,
Me
