MOODY MUSE

Marlys Millhiser

The muse is a "she" for a reason, just like mother nature. God is a "he," why? God only knows.

I have a heroine who can be a hero when need be. She’s an imposter and is able to change clever disguises incredibly fast. I, too, am an imposter, but incredibly slow. I overheard my husband, talking about me to his cousin on the phone the other day. "Oh she’s here–with her laptop somewhere. Yeah, writes most days. No, she’s self-motivated. Has to be–no regular paychecks, supervision, office hours, real job description, performance reviews, staff meetings, daily feed-back from peers."

I felt so much better. I figured I was crazy. "Self-motivated" has a nice ring to it and is so preferable to lazy. Then again, I do tend to sit around a lot. When you think about it, most bloggers are self-motivated too. I’ve turned down offers to teach others how to write. I don’t even know how I write. Every story is different even in a series. I know I screw up a lot. But hey, I’m self-motivated, so who’s counting? I am. Out of the eighteen novels I’ve completed, I’ve only sold fourteen.

Also, I’m a tad superstitious. Do I want to dis the muse by claiming to know how to go about writing fiction? She has moods, you know. Then again there are many more people making a living teaching how to write and sell fiction than there are selling manuscripts to editors and agents. I envy people like our Kris Neri who can do it all. Author and teacher, proprietor of a bookstore–now there’s a bonafide expert.

I am within inches of finishing another book manuscript. I just killed a major, though not leading, character. Actually, I didn’t shoot her, another character did–he was also a favorite of mine and in turn a third character shot him. And it all had to do with a sort of smouldering pride that, once challenged, resorts to violence. This is a large cast and there are all kinds of people, some real villains, who should have bought it, who really deserved it, who will live to die another day probably in their beds.

Life’s not fair, neither is death but I didn’t plan it this way because I don’t plot. Stories sort of evolve. This is an historical series so we’re talking mainly rifles rather than hand guns. So at close range it can be really grizzly. And we’re also talking parody so it’s possible to be grinning through our disgust. And there’s no cowboys or Indians. There is a sheriff with steely, empty, pale, metallic-blue eyes who’s reputation is legendary. Whose secret is he’s not very bright and is too vain to wear spectacles. At least he’s smart enough not to load his rifle or own a horse.

These are the days when prostitution is open and organized and straight forward, of mining and narrow gauge railroads. Saloons and churches are rampant. I can walk about six county blocks to the beginning of the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and follow an admittedly broken up (by subdivisions) railroad bed laboriously dug into the mountainside for miles that never saw tracks, was never even used as a stage road. Just abandoned for better sites or ore or promises. The investment scams were so like today’s–I’ve decided history doesn’t repeat itself , history just doesn’t change that much–the scammers now have television, junk mail, and the Internet to help them loot your bank account, talk you out of the equity in your home, etc. Wherever riches are promised for little thought or effort, scammers thrive and they can be based anywhere in the world. So hang on to your wallet and your mortgage and your savings and read about crime in mystery novels instead of your diary. We Femmes are here to help, educate, and not scam you. Our books are damn cheap, compared to–oops, sorry. There’s the door bell again. Signs that read "Private Drive" and "No Solicitors" don’t work. We have neighbors who keep dogs for this very reason. The pitch often starts with, "Do you realize how much more the land your house is on is worth than the house? You could make a killing on a sale, pay off all your debts and for a very small fee we could help you--"

And, God help me, my moody muse strikes again and I long for the good old days when citizens of Boulder County carried rifles.

Comments

[Marlys Weis]

Hi Marlys: I wrote to you many years ago to tell you I enjoyed your books that I started reading because we share the same name. I recently discovered there is a "Marlys Club" consisting of about 80 members. The founder is Marlys Hoeft, living in Minnesota. You can read the news article about it by just putting Marlys Club in the web search engine. Anyway, I wrote to her about you, and she said she would tell the members to check out your books - as she is starting a newsletter. Maybe there is an idea in there somewhere for another novel? Or at least an Oprah show topic? Or wouldn't it be fun to gather club members at a resort spot - all women sharing stories of living with the name that people misspell "Maryls" and comment that it's "pretty"??
Write faster - I'm still enjoying your books!
As ever,
Marlys Weis

[Marlys]

Iknow what you mean by Maryls. I picked up the nickname "Marty" in college and family and friends still call me that. But officially I'm Marlys. It was not that unusual name in the MidWest. Let me know if the Marlys club gets together.