That old Muse of Mine by Darry Fraser
When I call Her up, it’s usually because I’m so stuck with plot, character, etc that I throw my hands in the air. I’m exhausting my circle of friends who know I’m a writer and I live amongst HEAs and HFNs and all manner of nasty things besides. Explaining a plot to them is sometimes, well, awkward.
My Muse strikes when I’m challenged by a word count, or a subject that’s presented to me to write, or a problem. Other times, it might be a remnant of a dream, or a chance few words of a conversation overheard somewhere, or perhaps a look in someone’s eye.
For my Australian historical which is undergoing major edits and research, my Muse has lurked and drawn me back time and again to the dusty mallee in northern Victoria where I spent five years of my…
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