Bearing Gifts to the Muse

Okay, loves! Look who's back in the saddle! And I'm bringing Godiva Chocolatinis all around.

I don't know about you guys, but my muse is pissed. Yeah, she's been a little angry by being put off for holiday duties. I was thinking about this last night--being denied writing time. The words back up and it's like having an impacted colon. And it digressed into fart jokes, but I was amused and felt better. But seriously.

My immediate family is very supportive of my process. It's the extended family that seems to not get it. Which is surprising because there are creative types among them. No respect for my creative space. For the most part, I'm not a diva writer. Yes, a Text Diva for life, but I'm not fussy. I've adapted to handle interruptions, small imps that like to call me mama and demand food, and life in general. But disrespecting my creative space ignites a full blown hissy fit the likes of which even Van Gogh could not imagine and I'm not even dancing with the Green Fairy.

For me, it's a violation and as overdramatic as it sounds, I feel like I must exorcise all of their banal energy before it's my space again. I'm settling in now for a long winter's scribble.

What about you? Is your writing space sacred? What do you do to make it sacred?