Disclaimer: I haven’t suddenly developed a case of multiple
personality. This is fiction, okay?
There’s the Muse, of course. She’s usually about eleven, slight and
red-haired, likely to lean over my shoulder and say “Well? What now?
Come on, write it!” At least she used to be likely to do that.
Lately she’s gone into an adolescent sulk. She probably misses Mary
Gentle’s muse, who she went to the beach with last summer. I’ve been
very stuck as a result of that (or perhaps as a result of various Real
Life-type things). If she doesn’t come out soon, I’ll kick her; but
it looks as if she’s rallying a bit, so I’ll give her until
Saturday.
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