The Muse Speaketh...

...And her name is Jo. I haven't been around here too much this week not because I'm scrambling to get all my end-of-the-quarter assignments done before we leave for Utah next week, though I should be, but because I read the Harry finale last week and it's inspired me to write. As in real writing. Blog posts, you see, are sort of like bastard children--I love them, but I'm not particularly proud of them. Writing not intended for immediate electronic consumption, on the other hand, is my true pride and joy. If I've been prolific here over the past few months, it's because I wasn't writing elsewhere. Harry VII has reignited the flames of inspiration, though, and I've spent the last few days with a long-discarded story idea, fleshing out the plot and the back story and the characters. I'm more excited about this story than I have been about any story in a long time.

And for the record, my multi-volume masterpiece has nothing to do with wizards. See, it's about this boy, um, Barry Cotter. And he finds out he has these amazing abilities that he inherited from his dead parents, and so he goes to a school for... wait for it... superheroes. And they have these wacky superhero teachers and they play wacky superhero sports and eat wacky superhero foods. See, it's not derivative at all. Watch out, Rowling, your successor is coming!

I wonder whether I'll make more on the millions of copies sold worldwide or the movie rights, which will be sold only after a long and heated bidding war?