Well it’s about time.

I’ve just finished a first-draft of a new DaisyDonnie story; story 5 of book 3.

It’s an idea I’ve had for some time, and I’ve finally worked-out how to assemble the ideas into a coherent whole.

It’s an odd story, one which could be interpreted as disjointed (and which will be helped by future edits).

The muse is back finally; thanks to a much calmer, relaxed atmosphere here at home.

Yes, I missed Bikram tonight, but I got some stuff done which I needed desparately to finish. Tomorrow a double. Easy.

I’ve got at least 5 more stories to write for book 2, and a dozen for book 3, but it could very well be a rush of writing over the next few weeks. I may have the same writers-block that Douglas Adams suffered from; hugely productive bouts of extreme creativity followed by dead-zones of silence.

The mind works strangely, and the ideas don’t come if you force them. They have to come naturally and in their own time.

Interestingly enough, I find the music of Muse gets my mind working, but it is quite frantic music and so the writing that comes out seems energised. I should listen to some Barry Adamson too (just bought his new album off of iTunes so should get it onto the iPod and take it to work…)

However, that’s something for tomorrow. It’s 9.30 and time for bed. Especially since I need to be up at 5.30 at the latest for Bikram. Hey ho…

It’s about time.

3 months since the last story was written, at least two since the last one was started and left in an unfinished state.

Finally the muse has returned from her travels afar and has wriggled her backpack off, dropped the half-empty bottles of Duty-free alcohol onto the sofa and planted herself next to them with a cheeky yet knowing grin on her gob.

She’s had her hair done, too: One part peroxide, a smidge of weary traveller together with some interesting twigs and branches– and oh, what’s that? Yes, it’s a cocktail umbrella.

I’m informed she was keeping it as a souvenier.

Where to begin? Perchance to dream?

The beginning is where things traditionally start, immediately preceeded by that millisecond of worry, followed by the creative outpouring from the muse of a thousand ideas.

And if you think this is needlessly deep, zen even, for me, then you would be wrong. For Zen is what I am, not who; unlike episodes of Blakes 7, my fave episode is recounted below thanks to the folks at YouTube!