The characters, in conspiracy with my MUSE, merely used me as a tool, a means to put their thoughts and actions into my computer and ultimately into publication.
I hope they never find a way to leave me out of the loop.
Lately, while concentrating on short stories, editing, and publishing with friends and fellow authors, I feel the need coming back to write, the desire to create, the compulsion to spend hours bent over the keyboard and finish a full-length novel. My Muse and certain characters are batting ideas and thoughts around in the back of my brain. I feel sometimes if I don't let them escape onto the computer, they will make my head explode. UGH, what a mess that would be. No telling what all I have packed away up there. LOL
To avoid any clean-up (I hate cleaning when I could be writing) I will give in and allow myself to be used by my MUSE and these characters. The title of the book is Finding Treasure, a bit of a different paranormal romance with an old journal, a psychic with a talent for finding lost objects, a very special man who wants to protect her, and several interesting supporting characters. I hope my MUSE and the characters do a good job and will give me time to type in the details.
Soooo, if I act weird or distant in the next few weeks, please understand. I am not myself...I have been taken over by my MUSE and the characters of the moment.
"This is important, Stacey. I need you to listen closely.” He spoke quietly and firmly but kept the cold, military tone she hated out of his voice. “For a while, I think it would be best to go back the way we’ve come. I’m going to walk you back upriver to where the game trail came down to the water. Then I’m going to come back here and get the boys. If you hear shots, or I haven’t reached you by dawn, you have to take off. It will mean something has gone wrong and you will have to get help in here. Don’t waste any time and don’t come to see what happened, just go. Understand?” Using his sweatshirt sleeve, Cord picked up the hot metal cup, mixed in a packet of coffee then passed it to her. He stared at her, waiting for an answer to his question.
After sipping and passing him the cup, she insisted, “I can make it to the game trail by myself. That way you’ll be less tired when you go after the boys. I think you’re right about going back the way we came. With their injured man it will be hard for them to climb back up the slope and across those ridges. We should be able to stay well ahead of them if they pursue us. What about your pack? Couldn’t you move faster and easier if I take it with me?” she suggested.
Cord broke a candy bar in half and handed her a piece along with the coffee cup as he considered what she said. “I think it would be too much weight for you. I can stash it down near the river and get it on our way out. Besides, if there’s trouble, I might need some of the supplies in it.”
“I’m stronger than I look. I can make you a small pack you can stick in your shirt in case of an emergency. I really wish you would let me wait down here by the river and be on hand if you need help or someone gets hurt,” Stacey argued.
“Tell you what. We’ll put almost everything in your pack and only leave emergency supplies in mine. That will keep it light enough so it won’t slow me down. But you have to leave as soon as we finish transferring the stuff. You need to get back to the trail without having to push too hard. I want you fresh in case we have to move fast when I get there with the boys or if you have to go for help. Okay?” Cord wasn’t used to compromise and this was the best he could offer under the circumstances.