A Muse

It’s a month since I stopped working as an art teacher and began working, once more as a full-time writer – this time on my second novel, The Middle Distance. I didn’t feel too well on my last day at school, then developed pneumonia which had me splatted for weeks, but the opium cough medicine that they prescribe here in Denmark helped – as did staying inside for just about all that time. My muse was appeased, and I slavishly spluttered my way through ten chapters.

Shaken but not stirred, I eventually made it out and to a holiday cottage in a rain-streaked and desolate stretch of Danish coastline. I didn’t write much, preferring instead to breathe normally and delight in becoming well again. Upon returning home, I started tinkering about with a few unnecessary home improvements; like painting radiators and the stone steps to our basement. I was skiving, and my muse was displeased.

No more DIY projects for me! I sit at my desk once more, my ankle packed in frozen peas after twisting my ankle on the aforementioned (well painted) steps.

Back to work…

Don’t mess with the Muse!


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