The muse kicks in

So what do you do when you're stuck? You pray a little, and then you go to lunch with your friends, and then you build an altar to your muse.

The altar should have:

• Greenery
• Liquor
• Something good to eat
• Incense
• Money
• At least one candle
• Important images/symbols

I didn't have incense so I hit it with a shot of Chanel. There is, however, half a shot glass full of vodka stashed in it, and a good four dollars' worth of coins, two of which are those new gold-tone dollar coins.

For food, I stashed about 25 semi-sweet chocolate chips in a sandwich bag and wrapped it up tight with a teeny little hair claw thingie. I hope my muse likes it.

She seems to, because yesterday afternoon, after appropriately honoring my muse, I sat down and revised the synopsis for Fool Me Twice, cutting out all the plotty-plot-plot crap I don't need and trying to narrow in on the story. There's still stuff missing - for example, why the hero would be interested in our favorite neurotic, and what Lily's deal is - and there is still the entire freaking novel to be dealt with, but it's a start.

In other news, my fabulous father-in-law called the other night to ask some very important questions, the last of which was this:

"I have to know. Did Mitch commit suicide?"

So spake the man who has been married for nigh 25 years. Actually, he knows his son and I are stripping wallpaper, so he may have been fearing the worst for C. Option #3: he also owned a very old house for a very long time, and home repairs themselves, as my old friend Sara reminds me, can drive one to unnatural acts.

But I digress.

For you completists out there, no, Mitch didn't commit suicide - he died of a heart attack, but he wasn't supposed to die. Someone else (not Margaret) caused his death.