I am on deadline with my 3rd Odelia Grey novel. I have exactly 66 days in which to finish, proof, and deliver Mother Mayhem to my publisher, Midnight Ink.
66 days -- add one more 6 and you have the Mark of the Beast, the zip code of the Antichrist. There has to be a connection here.
I am a trained corporate paralegal. Deadlines are my life. I always make them and sometimes I'm even early. So why am I in a dither?
Simply put, my muse and I are on different schedules. Monday through Friday from 9-6 perfectly nice people in a perfectly nice law firm pay me to work for them as their corporate paralegal. It's what I do to pay my rent and buy cat kibble. Without these nice people in the nice law firm I would be fighting my cats for the kibble and living under a freeway overpass.
I write either in the morning before work or in the evening after work; sometimes both. Since I live alone, this is not a tough schedule to keep, except that my muse doesn't like those hours. My muse wants a 9-5 job and I'm only offering split shifts and weekend work.
My muse thinks it funny when it whispers creative thoughts in my ear at 11:15 on a Thursday morning while I'm pouring over California statutes governing non-profit corporations. I push my muse away and say "not now, come back later." But later is not convenient for my muse. At 8:00 pm tonight, my muse was a no-show. But like the trooper I am, I continue to write, slogging through each line, paragraph and thought, watching the year run out of days.
66... my muse has made a pact with the devil, I'm sure of it.