Sunday, January 30
I hate my inner editor
My inner child's ok; my inner editor is a jerk. He's just a bitter pill to be around. Unfun. Demented. Twisted. Wicked, and not in a Bostonian wicked-good kind of way. I mean, he's got some awesome technical skills (as Jared can probably attest as he's now processing the work my inner editor did on his novel for the past two weeks or so). My I.E. is thorough with continuity issues, good with vocabulary, solid on the basics of punctuation and grammar (although he does tend to skew towards keep-it-simple,-stupid type advice) and he knows a good sentence when he sees one. He's got a pretty good feel for pacing, for plotting, too. A little weak perhaps on similes and metaphors, but that's OK.
But man: his personality sucks. He's always negative, seeing my work as pointless and hopeless and useless. He's always telling me to quit dreaming and buckle down. I mean, if had to be stuck with my inner editor on a ski lift, or next to him on an airplane, I'd bury my face in a book as fast as I could (well, not on the ski lift, because it's unlikely I'd have a book with me there….). But you know what I mean. Right? Hate's a strong word, but I think it applies to my inner editor.
So I'm going to try to avoid him as much as possible in coming months, and I'm certainly not going to take him out to dinner or a movie or anything any time soon. No rewards for bad behavior. The one thing I love about American Idol in these early weeks is how all those contestants treat their inner editors, even -- no, especially! -- those who really could or should learn something from theirs: They ignore them. So I'm going to take a cue from all those heroes on American Idol and treat my inner editor as the Dursley's treat Harry Potter when he's home for summer: by locking him up in a dark hole under the stairs. I'm going to pretend he doesn't exist.
But man: his personality sucks. He's always negative, seeing my work as pointless and hopeless and useless. He's always telling me to quit dreaming and buckle down. I mean, if had to be stuck with my inner editor on a ski lift, or next to him on an airplane, I'd bury my face in a book as fast as I could (well, not on the ski lift, because it's unlikely I'd have a book with me there….). But you know what I mean. Right? Hate's a strong word, but I think it applies to my inner editor.
So I'm going to try to avoid him as much as possible in coming months, and I'm certainly not going to take him out to dinner or a movie or anything any time soon. No rewards for bad behavior. The one thing I love about American Idol in these early weeks is how all those contestants treat their inner editors, even -- no, especially! -- those who really could or should learn something from theirs: They ignore them. So I'm going to take a cue from all those heroes on American Idol and treat my inner editor as the Dursley's treat Harry Potter when he's home for summer: by locking him up in a dark hole under the stairs. I'm going to pretend he doesn't exist.
