Lost: One Muse. Reward.
I’m two weeks behind on my posts going on three. You’d think by committing to only one post per week, I’d manage to stay on top of things. Apparently, my muse has other plans, because it (she?) has headed for tall timber. Disappeared. Vamoosed. Gone bye-bye.
What a coward.
If I could disappear like that, I probably would. The pressure has been intense ever since I joined the Platform Building Campaign. Since then, I’ve had wonderful people, fellow campaigners, stopping by and reading what I’ve written, and I’m not used to that. Now, I don’t dare flatter myself by believing people are counting the hours down until I post again, but I’d like to think I would have a chance to gain some (as in, one or two) followers if (a) I could post good stuff on a consistent basis, and (b) I could put a “follow” button somewhere on here (it would be business-as-usual if I’ve picked a theme that doesn’t include a “follow” button).
I’ve opened a twitter account (here’s what I have to say about that). And, I’ve downloaded “Tweetdeck” to help me keep everything organized. However, I have not been able to get on there on a regular basis, and when I do, I can’t think of a thing to tweet in a hundred and forty words or less. Being word-thrifty is not one of my strong suits. Usually. Except now. When I can’t think of any words. At all.
And, it’s not like I’ve been living in a vacuum…things are happening to me and around me. I do have a life. Honest. In fact, three days ago, I was sitting on a king-size bed in a cute, cozy room in a bed-and-breakfast in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, after eight hours of sitting behind my husband on a motorcycle in ninety-five-degree weather. The last time I was in that neck of the woods, I was riding my own motorcycle, missing a curve, hitting gravel, and (gracefully, I assure you) landing between a chain link fence and a large wooden sign that said “St. Paul’s Bible Church,” which explains very succinctly, I think, why I was sitting behind my husband for eight hours on a motorcycle in ninety-five degree weather. Which may not seem very hot to some, especially to those of us in Texas who have been suffering from three-digit heat since Christmas…but this was a wet heat, as I discovered when I tried to pull up my soggy jeans after a bathroom break. Almost can’t be done without an industrial-size shoehorn. Believe me.
Yeah, things happen to me, which is normally excellent fodder for blogs, but at the moment, I’m Muse-less, and if things don’t change, this is going to be a really short campaign.