The Gift

POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

The Gift

By Nandy Ekle

 

I’ve got the characters. I can hear their voices and see their faces. She throws roses into the arena. The bright sunshine glints off the sequins on his suit making him look like a glowing god. He bends down, scoops up one of her roses, and makes a big gesture of smelling it. In the background, the opponent beats against the toril, the gate to the arena. She sucks in a deep breath as the crashing of the monster’s body gets louder.

I have the situation. The female character and the male character are unable to deny their attraction to each other. Their love causes the conflict, and the monster behind the gate raises the stakes, as does the third character, her husband.

I’ve been researching my heart out. I’ve had to learn some history, some new words, a very different culture, and even different names. I’ve had to look up facts, rules, and definitions. And just when I’m ready to start writing, a new question comes up and I go back to Google.

I’ve worked so hard gathering information that I’ve gotten myself extremely excited to get this going. So I open the computer, put my fingers on the keyboard, and . . . . . . . sit there. You see, reality has happened. Overtime on the day job. Laundry piled up. Empty refrigerator. And then, the top of the list, a big time illness pops up.

So I’ve promised myself a gift. This weekend I will take my computer to a quiet little coffee shop and not allow myself to leave until I write the words “The End.”

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

 

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