My muse is apparently very patient

After three months of absolute silence, my NaNo novel came up to me last night to remind me she's still out there waiting for me. We talked for a long time. My feelings for her have only deepened.

I think it was Mary Stewart that did it. There's an Arthurian thread in my work that I hadn't realized I'd put in, and suddenly I know what--or rather who--the third book is about. I understand the dynamics of the family at the core of the story now, and it's so obvious I can't see how I missed it before. It's gone from the story of two sisters with a side of grandfather to the story of three sisters, a brother, both parents, a grandfather, two lovers, and a child. The second book is going to be basically all female characters. The third book is already making my heart break and I haven't even written a word.

God, but I want to write this story. I don't think I've ever had quite this relationship to the work before, this conviction. I don't have any idea if I can do it justice, but I owe it at least the attempt. I may defer for a while, but I'm not going to let this one get away.

Not that I think she'd let me.