One internal editor.

At this point, I’m willing to let her go free to a bad home. Seriously, abuse her all you want. I won’t care. Just…please come and get her.

Warning: she’s a bitch.

If all she did was pick apart my grammar and spelling and typos, then I’d be all set. A mere, “La la la, I’m not listening to you” while I covered my ears, and then stuck out my tongue, would do the trick. But she’s bound and determined to analyze my every sentence for rhythm and flow, and she delights in reminding me that my exposition is clunky and forced. She’s making it so I can’t write anything at all.

I’ve tried telling her that this is still a first draft, and that perfection isn’t necessary. That the important part is getting the ideas down on the page, and that we can fix it up later; but she won’t listen. And so she needs to go away.

She doesn’t eat much, takes up very little room, and she’s great with kids and pets. So whaddya say?

Note: I’ll need her back once my first draft is completed.