I Should be Writing by AndromedaMarine

I should be writing. Seriously, I should be writing. But, for the life of me, I can't form the right jumble of words to portray Kate as Nikki. My muse isn't being very helpful. So here I am, dozing off intermittently with my laptop thrumming happily on my lap (because it doesn't have to process fast typing) and my screensaver blinking annoyingly at me with the words "I...Should...Be...Writing..." marquee style to wake me up if I'm dozing, just like right now.

It doesn't seem to help, though. Honestly, how am I supposed to write when my muse doesn't cooperate? The screensaver keeps those four words in my head, though I desperately want to write different words to finish up this tenth chapter of Summer Heat...

What time is it? The digital clock a few feet away proudly announces the time as a quarter to midnight...and I have work tomorrow... Ooh, that sounds interesting – I have work tomorrow! As in I get to spend all day with Kate investigating freaky murders that are really the true inspiration for my new series. Not that I don't like Kate, I adore her – maybe that's the wrong word to describe what I feel... Okay, I enjoy her company. She just...doesn't enjoy mine... But teasing her is really only because I do like her. It's like the boy pulling the girl's hair on the playground.

Alexis would murder me in the figurative sense if she found out I'm wasting valuable writing time thinking about Kate Beckett – insert dreamy smile here – oops, I mean characterizing Kate Beckett as Nikki... The words flash angrily at me again, probably wondering why the heck I'm not typing so they'll go away. "All right, all right." I cave, talking to my death-defying computer like it's my mother. "But I'm blaming Kate," I mutter as I swiped a finger over the mousepad.

"Blaming Kate for what?" I hear Alexis say clearly from behind. I'm frozen as the screensaver disappears, and my fifteen year old genius daughter marches to plant herself in front of me. "You don't have writer's block again, do you, Dad?"

I grin weakly, putting on a show I know she'll see right through. "No writer's block, honey. Beckett block..." Ooh, I'll have to remember to use that one down at the precinct...

Her arms cross. "You should be writing," she states simply, just reiterating what my computer had been trying to tell me for the past hour. "Don't tell me you've lost inspiration in Detective Beckett," Alexis says, disappointed. "I thought she's the base for Nikki Heat."

"She is," I say, closing the laptop and standing to stretch the long-cramped muscles. I hear and feel my back crack. "Oh, I'll feel that in the morning," I joke, but it falls flat. "Alexis, honey, chapters are practically flying by. Summer Heat will be finished in no time," I insist, though from my daughter's expression, she doesn't believe me.

One thing I'm proud of about my daughter is her ability to see through people...though sometimes annoying when she uses her trick on me, it's quite helpful when she wants me to see something straight. "I think I need to spend some quality time with Detective Beckett," Alexis states.

I stare at her. "I thought she was my muse..."

"Oh, she is, Dad, but the way you sort of stare off into space when you're writing the new series is like you're ogling at some woman." Sharp truth, right where it hurts.

"That's great, sweetie. Just what I needed to end my day..."

"Begin," she corrects.

I wave my hand. "Whatever. My muse just doesn't cooperate..."

"Goodnight, Dad," she says firmly, then walks back towards her room, her perfect ponytail of red hair swinging back and forth. "Don't worry, if I approve of her she could be my next mom!" It's just like her to be realistic and sarcastic at the same time...

I really should be writing, not thinking about Kate's perfect legs...her laugh...oh, and that smile... I slap myself. "I should be writing..."

"Yes, you should," Alexis replies from her room. "But sleep on it first."

It's moments like these I always love with my daughter...