Permanent Muse

Last night was the last meeting of my critique group for the year. How weird is that to think about? It feels like just a few weeks ago when I was heading home from Alaska for the last time. This year went by in a blur, am I right?

Anyway, I came home from critique group last night, made a cup of tea, settled myself in the best writing chair in the house (it's got big, wide arms for propping books or plates of snacks on) and was immediately attacked by a cat. As in, the big fuzzball jumped on my keyboard, shoved his chest in my face and demanded love. Then I got distracted by the beauty of the moon. Finally, I opened up my work in progress and pounded out a few paragraphs. But that, by far, was not the highlight of my night.

The best part of the night? That feeling that I knew exactly what I was doing. I mean, I didn't really know where my plot was going, and this is obviously a rough draft, but that feeling of knowing that I'm on the right track as a writer. My prose is solid for the most part, if occasionally a bit purple. My dialogue is great, my characters generally believable. And this is what I'm meant to be doing, maybe not for a living, but definitely for a hobby.

Writing is so important to me. And I'm extremely grateful to be out of my "ugh, I should give up" funk. I sincerely hope that anyone else who has been fighting creative blockage recently finds the new year brings you all sorts of inspiration and renewed passion. May 2012 be the year we all find our permanent muse.