Susan had a post today about her inner critic, although she refers to said critic as "bitch." I had a visit from the critic last night. I call him by the name in my title of the day.
I'd worked over two hours with a particular scene and while at it I was generally pretty happy with what was happening. The words seemed to be right, the sentences hung together, the paragraphs flowed. I finally reached a stopping point and I should have turned the computer off right then. But, oh no, I had to give the scene a quick last look over. At which point a big, booming voice (my inner critic isn't a "little" anything) said: "Well that was a major waste of time. There's not even anything worth cannibalizing here so please don't make me read it again."
I would have beat the shit out of him but he's wearing my face. And getting it wrinkled to boot. I told him I was going to embarass his ass today with this very post. He only smirked, and, as always of course, he got in the last word.
"It's your writing," he said. "Who do you think it's really going to embarass?"
The fucker! I'm afraid he's going to be right.
Touche. Funny in a scary kind of way -- like Philip K. Dick.
ReplyDeleteDamn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.
Mine is a big fat slob who sits around eating donuts, getting crumbs on my pages and criticizing everything from my writing to my hair.
ReplyDeleteI vote we send all three (yours, mine and Susan's) to the Death Valley with only half a canteen of water.
Yeah, Kate, let 'em critisize each other over who is dying the fastest. Good point, Erik. Full speed ahead, right over that inner critic.
ReplyDeleteI was wrestling with mine last night too. He had me in a headlock and I thought I was down for the count. But today is sunny and warm and the bastard is no where to be seen. Oh, he'll be back. But he's not here right now.I like days like this.
ReplyDeleteCliff, good to see you back. I've been wondering where you were, my friend.
ReplyDeleteI call mine Goddamned Liar. Schizo little bastard, too. Some days he tells me I'm shite. Others, the greatest thing since sliced bread.
ReplyDeleteReason he's a liar? I go back (after enough time has passed) and look at my work, and I can't tell which days were good or bad...
The fact is that my Dad taught me to be such a fighter, Charles, which means that bitch and me may be in for a long haul. On my best days she challenges me, fuels me to be better and ensures that I will do this until I prove her wrong. And maybe she knows that.
ReplyDeleteGreat post...I love your critic's name.
I don't know anyone less productive at writing then myself (or so my inner critic tells me).
ReplyDeleteThe inner critic is a demon to be banished back to the outer darkness.
ReplyDeleteGosh how I hate mine as well, as if the world is not critical enough, then we beat on ourselves too.
ReplyDeletewhahahahaha....:)
Very funny! The use of swear words seemed so un-Charles (of late) that I was shocked!
ReplyDeleteVery funny! The use of swear words seemed so un-Charles (of late) that I was shocked!
ReplyDelete*Beats the living hell out of Charles' offal-eating piece of maggot swilling swine, removes it's head (like a good Celt,) & proudly displays it on a pole in the front yard. Dusts off her hands & admires her handiwork.* There. No offal-eating swine allowed--only mite-ridden raisin eating women! That'll learn ya! *shakes a fist at the head, then goes back inside to make Charles a really good dinner*
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