I have lost complete track of time, but I think it was a week ago that my sleeping schedule went like this.
4hrs of sleep one day. Then 4hrs the next. Then no sleep. Then 12hrs. Then no sleep again.
During the sleepless hours, the whole emotional trope and main plot of my new book came to me. So weird. I've never preplotted before. (Guess I should add that to my list of new behaviors.)
I was writing like a mad woman, developing characters, the rules of the world, going from one event to another, naming chapters I had not written. My brain was on such overdrive that not even 60wpm could keep up. I had to type trigger phrases in a word document instead of ideas, and then fill in the thoughts when my brain had paused.
And since I hadn't been sleeping, I was really wacky. You know the look.
Towards the end of the ordeal, I called up my stepfatherinlaw, James. I told him my dilemma.
Now, most people would tell you that voices in your head, or rather ones that come on misty wind through open windows, are a sign that you need medication.
Not James. He advised that I talk back. Brilliant!
He framed the issue as my relationship with my Muse (I just really can't help but cap it). I must tell my Muse that we can work together, but only so long as I stay healthy and happy, physically and mentally and in my relationships. (That means you, babe).
That I must tell my Muse straight up about my demands. And I did. I wrote my Muse a letter, in my journal. And it didn't feel silly at all.
Why? 'Cause I had James' seal of approval, and its a mighty fine seal to get.