Good Morning everyone, I told you it wouldn't be long before I missed you all. I've been working steadily on revisions, taking in all the feedback received from my dear beta/critters. It's truly overwhelming to believe I've forgotten everything I learned in 6th grade about sentence structure.
Anyway, as I was in the throes the other night, I found myself arguing with -- myself. Here is the conversation.
Writer Me: Hey, that first act was pretty good.
Editor Me: Are you nuts? Four out of six people were "horrified". Don't you know any other words? How about frightened, or scared, or even slightly surprised?
Writer Me: Hey, it's a shitty first draft. I'll change it when I get to it.
Editor Me: Well, what about all those 'as's'? No other word up your sleeve for that either?
Writer Me: It's how I think. I write like I think. Whatever spills from the brain gets written on the page.
Editor Me: Well, that certainly explains a lot.
Writer Me: Hey, I beg to differ. And who was the one who said my settings were "bucolic" and "picturesque" to quote from Dear Richard.
Editor Me: And they were. Which surprised me. I didn't think you had it in you. You're such a dialogue whore.
Writer Me: I do what I know best. I like dialogue. It gets to the heart and soul of the character.
Editor Me: Well, you could use a lot of help with your POV's. They're disgraceful. And you call yourself a writer.
Writer Me: Yes, I am a W-R-I-T-E-R. I'm not published yet, I'm allowed to make a few mistakes.
Editor Me: A FEW mistakes, did you see that red pen slashing through the first scene from the lovely critter?
Writer Me: I saw it. What about it?
Editor Me: Well, obviously you need to go back to grade school to learn the basics of English grammar and composition.
Writer Me: Oh yeah, and where the hell were you when I was writing this in the first place? You just come out of hiding to point to all my mistakes?
Editor Me: Don't be ridiculous, you know where I was. You know I was there right behind you egging you on when you were struggling. You know I stood by your side when the shit hit the fan and Genna didn't want to meet Pete. You know I passed you the Kleenex when you wrote the scene when Sally had his heart attack. I'm always with you, that's the trouble. When you write your shitty first drafts you don't want to listen to me. That's why it's going to take you four years to revise this.
Writer Me: Oh shut up and get me the pretzels. I've got to work on Act Two.