… in a rather too literal sense of the word for my liking! You know, other people’s muses are these gracious beings who gently spread inspiration as soon as some candles are lit or some nice, soothing music is played. My muse thinks it’s great fun to bang the window shut — with my finger inbetween the window and the frame. And we’re not talking about your normal-sized window here, oh no! We’re talking about a giant, heavy, metal-framed monster of a swinging window! So, last evening, while my finger throbbed and bled a little, while my blood sagged to my feet and I had to lie down gasping on the yucky, old grey carpet in my office, my muse got it into her head that this was a great opportunity to hand out inspiration. Wonderful! I thought I might faint any minute and my muse wants to have a smooching party.
So you can already guess what’s going to happen to my poor heroine, can’t you? Though, in her case I’ll probably use a door instead of a swinging window (a little bit hard to come by in a derelict castle, these …). Which will give my hero opportunity to display some tender, loving care. Yeah!
As to his heroicness — chopping down a tree is a fabulous idea, Adair: he’ll have to chop down a Christmas tree (good thing, the story is set in the Black Forest, eh? So they can have a Christmas tree! Which otherwise wouldn’t be possible in a normal Regency-set historical!), and Dorie, yes, he’s going to save the heroine, too: think carnival, think drunken ruffians. And while this might be terribly clichéd, my ruffians will at least wear carnival masks! Ha!
I’m off now. My muse still wants to have that smooching party … :O)