The muse is preaching (begging, pleading, imploring) patience.
Yes, the four-legged, furry highness who sits on my hip as I toil away over “Oklahoma” is beseeching me not to sprint blindly to the now-in-sight finish.
“Take your time, human one,” she persists. “Sweat the details. Immerse us both in the pursuit of sweet perfection. The hours are finally ours; the deadline waits two weeks out. Let us luxuriate in the process of tale-telling.”
I, the human one, am trying… but a collar and leash may prove necessary.