Free to good home:

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.

Writing weaknesses

Okay, Elle, to use a poor poker metaphor: I see your “dialogue is my weakest point writing-wise” statement and raise you an “action sequences aren’t my strong suit.”

I’m not talking about true action, ie fight scenes, sex scenes and the like. Those are great fun. I mean the boring stuff that happens between point A and point B. For example, during a recent editing session, I struggled for three days to get my girl, Tess, from her apartment to her car. Here is what I imagine was running through her head:

“Okay, Kel, I’ve been standing here for three fucking days. You’ve made my driveway wet and soupy with thick, brown mud to symbolize the shithole my life has become. So please–please–could you just write my fat ass down the stairs so I can get on with it?”

So after three whole days, how did Tess get to her car?

…I threw on my coat and clomped down the stairs…

Because–sometimes–that’s all there is to it.