She lay on the couch, her chest rising and falling
rhythmically. She appeared both
exhausted and satisfied. We’d just
finished out most recent work, and she was spent.
Part of me wanted to get up, to go about my business, but another part of me just wanted to look at this beautiful creature that never left my side, even when I left hers. Her encouragement, enthusiasm, and ideas kept me going as I struggled through my last novel. I asked her for everything, and she rose magnificently to the occasion.
She looked so peaceful, and God knows she earned her rest, so I got up to leave. However, as I did so, she said, “Please don’t go.”
Looking back at her, I said, “I should. There are other things I have to do. I’ll be back once you’ve regained your strength.
“My strength depends on you,” she replied. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up. “Remember what happened the last time you left me?”
Boy did I ever. I was trying to recover from another marathon session of writing, and I forgot where my Muse was. She got lost, and when I finally found her, her body was so weak that she nearly died. Had she not come around, my career as a writer would’ve been over.
“I’m not going for good,” I said. “I just need a break, same as you. I’ll come back once I’m up to another go.”
"That’s what you said last time,” she pouted.
“There are things here I need to do beyond mere writing. Those wonderful stories you’ve helped me create are worthless if I don’t find a way to get them into the public sphere. They need to be produced, marketed, and sold. I can’t do those things if I do nothing but write.”
"I understand,” she said, softly.
“It won’t be like last time,” I promised. “I’ll come back to you for a few short stories from time to time, and if I get any major inspiration for a story, like maybe the sequel to Salvation Day, I’ll come running. For now, though, I think we could both use some rest.”
She looked into my eyes. I often forgot just how beautiful she could be. “Don’t forget me.”
“How could I? Without you, I have nothing.”
I slipped through the swinging door to the kitchen and made my way to the fridge. I heard her lay back down, and in moments, she was snoring. This hibernation would do us both good…so long as I can eventually wake her again.
Part of me wanted to get up, to go about my business, but another part of me just wanted to look at this beautiful creature that never left my side, even when I left hers. Her encouragement, enthusiasm, and ideas kept me going as I struggled through my last novel. I asked her for everything, and she rose magnificently to the occasion.
She looked so peaceful, and God knows she earned her rest, so I got up to leave. However, as I did so, she said, “Please don’t go.”
Looking back at her, I said, “I should. There are other things I have to do. I’ll be back once you’ve regained your strength.
“My strength depends on you,” she replied. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up. “Remember what happened the last time you left me?”
Boy did I ever. I was trying to recover from another marathon session of writing, and I forgot where my Muse was. She got lost, and when I finally found her, her body was so weak that she nearly died. Had she not come around, my career as a writer would’ve been over.
“I’m not going for good,” I said. “I just need a break, same as you. I’ll come back once I’m up to another go.”
"That’s what you said last time,” she pouted.
“There are things here I need to do beyond mere writing. Those wonderful stories you’ve helped me create are worthless if I don’t find a way to get them into the public sphere. They need to be produced, marketed, and sold. I can’t do those things if I do nothing but write.”
"I understand,” she said, softly.
“It won’t be like last time,” I promised. “I’ll come back to you for a few short stories from time to time, and if I get any major inspiration for a story, like maybe the sequel to Salvation Day, I’ll come running. For now, though, I think we could both use some rest.”
She looked into my eyes. I often forgot just how beautiful she could be. “Don’t forget me.”
“How could I? Without you, I have nothing.”
I slipped through the swinging door to the kitchen and made my way to the fridge. I heard her lay back down, and in moments, she was snoring. This hibernation would do us both good…so long as I can eventually wake her again.
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