"Sing to me of the [wo]man, Muse,
the [wo]man of twists and turns
driven time and again off course..."
Wo[e] is me, indeed. The [wo]man in need of a muse, the [wo]man of plots with twists and turns, the [wo]man who has been driven time and again off course.
Didja catch all those [wo]es?
Wo[e] is me.
Homer was prophetic.
So I'm desperately seeking a different muse, this time. A muse who will sing me a song that is straightforward, not so twisty-turny this time. One who will help me complete my packet, which is due in six days.
My first packet of the semester, consisting of approximately 100 pages of novel attempt #2, got a seventeen-page response from my advisor. Note that not even the best writer can drag out "It's perfect! I love it! Don't change a thing!" into seventeen pages. My advisor didn't even try.
I will leave it to your imagination what those seventeen pages said. But I will note that I have started novel attempt #2 AGAIN and I'm currently 27 measly pages into it. I need a muse. Or a miracle. Or both.