Tuesday, October 28, 2014

The Muse - Breathing Once More

Blip.

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Blip.

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Blip.

Her pulse was growing stronger as I set the latest paragraph on paper.  My Muse had been ill for quite some time, and I wasn't sure if she could ever fully recover.  It was my fault, of course.  Months of neglect turned her into a shadow of her former self.  It was going to take far more than 3,000 words to get her back.

Looking to her sickly form lying on my bed, I asked, "How do I make it clear how he feels about his wife?"

Blip.

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Blip.

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I thought she'd slipped back into that ever-present coma and went back to staring at my screen.  However, she soon stirred.

"Talk about how he got into this marriage, about how he both loves and resents his family.  It'll create depth."

Nodding, I wrote, David got Jen pregnant in college, and she joined him as he began his Army career.  He never got to be one of those "single guys" in his 20s, and he wondered what he missed out on.  Yes, he loved Jen and Tyler, but he had, at the tender age of 23, very grown up responsibilities.  Jen was at home with their son, and the boy took a lot of effort.  She didn't seem to appreciate that he had a full time job that was more than working at a bank, and the boy...

"No, no, no," the Muse chided, her voice growing stronger.  "You need to show those things, but don't do it all in one paragraph.  Drop hints as he escapes the initial attack.  Make it clear in how he worries, as well as in the guilt he internalizes over those feelings.  Do what you're doing now and you won't create empathy between him and the audience."

I went back and deleted the paragraph.  Instead, I described his desperation at getting away from the enemy and making his way back home.  I put in but a single line about how he abandoned his comrades, but I knew I'd revisit that over the coming pages.

Looking at the clock, I told her, "It's getting late, and I still need to spend time with my kids.  One of them has a dance recital coming up that I can't miss."

The Muse nodded and smiled, a brief flush of color returning to her skin.  "I understand.  Just do me one favor."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't leave me alone for so long this time."

"I won't," I promised.  Of course, I'd said that to her before.  I had a schedule that would revive her, but it was going to take months, and there would be bumps along the way.  I hoped my promise wasn't more in a long string of empty words.

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