Toon: Schultz

Doing:  Working, or at least trying to, it’s not going well today.   The muse must be at the beach.   Sheesh, he’s taken a lot of time off this summer!

3 am…


3 AM is the hour of writers, painters, poets, over thinkers, silent seekers and creative people.   We know who you are, we can see your light on.

Quote: fb/the idealist
Toon: Schultz

Inky:  So that brings to mind a couple of questions for the idealist.

Like, if  ‘We’ aren’t writers, painters, poets, over thinkers, silent seekers, and creative people.  Just who is standing outside my office at 3 am in the morning watching the light through my window?

Secondly and a bit more importantly, why?  I know why I’m awake, this dang manuscript is demanding.   But ‘We,’ it’s like 3 A.M., mattresses, fluffy pillows, and other more pleasurable pursuits await.



scribbling suit…

writer cat

Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace.

Scribbler: Louisa May Alcott
Toon: Debbie Ridpath Ohi & SG Redling

Doing: putting on my scribbling suit.

It’s gorgeous outside but because I’ve played so much this summer I must reintroduce myself to my computer and the manuscript waiting rather impatiently on my untidy desk.   So it will be just Muse Cat and myself locked away with the coffee and cream. Muse Cat abhors her coffee without a lot of cream.

why I write…


Toon: Grant Snider

Inky:  It’s the end of week two of h.e.l.l.  My house is part of that equation, but not the biggest.  The biggest by far is the day job.   Over zealous expectations,  unreasonable deadlines, and sandbox politics have been rampant these last two weeks.  Then there is the serving of three masters to add, all with differing goals, visions, and expectations. Exhausting.

I have returned to the place I’m staying every evening and asked the cosmos, ‘what is it? If this is not what, or where you want me to be then show me, tell me what it is you wish me to be doing?’   So far, no reply.

Chucking the day job is the dream, but there is the need to eat, my adventures, gas for Emily (my car), and of course right now construction costs.  So the dream lives for the moment.

Writing is my solace.  It always has been through the years.   It lets me leave it all behind and live in the world of my own creation.   It is my escape.  You could say, I write to save what little sanity I have left.   It would be the truth.

the true…

redditThe true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words.

lyrical fella: William Gass
digital drawing: rodg-art, on reddit

Doing:  alchemy…

reading is…


After all, reading is arguably a far more creative and imaginative process than writing; when the reader creates emotion in their head, or the colors of the sky during the setting sun, or the smell of a warm summer’s breeze on their face, they should reserve as much praise for themselves as they do for the writer—perhaps more.

insight: The Well of Lost Plots, Jasper Fforde




Comic: PHDComics

Doing: Trying to write, and failing.  I’m out of my element, and my mind is insistent on returning home before it will let go of the first word.   ARGH!!!  Where’s the bourbon? Yes I know it’s morning, but bourbon goes well with coffee, right?  Right?


I’ll see you sometime, Monday.    Maybe…

at night…

theguardian com

At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night.

Observation: HP Lovecraft

writing about?


So okay― there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You’ve blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water.

Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about?

The equally big answer: Anything you damn well want.

Advice: Stephen King, Writing: a Memoir of the Craft
Image: found at pixels

Doing: wondering how anyone knew the plug on the phone is pulled, the shades are down, and the door shut?  Starts searching the room for hidden cameras…..

Mood: Mellow.  A glass of wine on the nearby table, the house is really quiet, in my fave soft jeans, and an oversize tshirt, curled up in a comfy chair re-reading MC Beaton.  I really love the hot mess that is Agatha Raisin.

what can you do?


‘Not writing? Your muse isn’t speaking to you?’

‘She rarely does. International cell charges and what not. Besides which, she’s flighty and nearly impossible to understand. And she says I always misinterpret her intentions.’

‘Muses. What can you do, right?’

Dialogue: The Chaos of Stars, Kiersten White
Toon: B Gonzalez

Inky: I don’t know why I blame some cobweblike being for my own tiredness but there it is.  Besides, my muse is a He, and He is allowed a fishing trip or two.  Although why he never tells me He’s going is anyone’s guess.  Or, when He’s coming back….

Mood: Gray.  The wind has picked up and the clouds are rolling in.  I suspect through empirical evidence it’s close to storming.  Which happens to be one of my favorite types of days, if, I didn’t have to go to work.