Oh, man. What a night.
My beautiful, amazing, wondrous, brilliant wife stayed up with me until 9:30 this morning. That's right, 9:30 a.m. We were working together, exchanging ideas, brainstorming. We discarded ideas, identified deal-breaking issues, found flaws, backed up, went forward ... changing directions, shifting focus, fluid, in motion.
We bantered. We tried to defend our arguments, our notions. We failed. We backed up again. Zigging, zagging, weaving, bobbing and turning. We agreed, then tried to destroy it again. It held up. We searched for flaws, found them, went silent. Then we solved them. Things started falling into place, one after another, one discarded idea coming back into play to be the shoring factor for another idea.
As the dawn's light grew to the morning sun, we had it. We had it, and we felt more sure of it than we did the last time this happened, only scant weeks ago. It was exciting. It was workable. It was solid.
And it's something we can write. We can write it now.
I think we finally solved our plot problem. The best part of all is, we don't have to change a thing.
I think I can write again. I think our Muse has returned.
Stupid late-arrival bitch. 'Bout time.
Look for more fiction from me soon. Maybe next week soon. Thanks for believing in me, friends. I love you all. And babe? It's not my story. It's our story. I couldn't have done it without your help. Thank you. I love you.