Sometimes it does you good to just write a piece for your amusement. For the sheer fun of it. Often with no original intention of sharing it. Here’s one such piece.
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My internal editor - who calls himself IE because he thinks it’s cool to be known only by his initials - popped his ugly face around the corner of the door late last night just as I was saving the latest section of my NANO novel. (50,000 or more words in a month .)
“And who’s going to buy this? Who’s the Target reader? This story is incoherent and sending out mixed messages.”
“Well,” I replied. “You may be correct. But I do know about these things. They can all be fixed at the revision stage.”
“Revision Shmevision.” He sneered.
At which point my Muse slid down off my shoulder - and this time she looked remarkably like a six inch tall version of Sam, my female lead character. She abseiled down from my keyboard, stalked across to the door, and stood looking up at the towering IE, her arms crossed and one foot tapping. I’ve seen her in this sort of mood before, so I quietly reached for my pen to take notes.
“May I suggest you absent yourself in a copulatory manner.” Softly spoken, the calm before the storm.
“Complex and unnecessary verbosity!” IE snapped back, like a true grammar Nazi storm trooper.
My currently copper-haired Muse smiled sweetly and disarmingly at him.
“Gyppo and I are just having fun. This is our business. Not yours. You don’t own us.”
“I’m only trying to help.” The smug protest fell on unsympathetic ears as she uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips.
“Fuck off!”
As IE fell back in astonishment she pushed the door shut and jammed a wedge underneath.
She trotted back across the carpet, swarmed back up her rope, climbed up my shirt buttons and said with some asperity “Well, pick me up then.” I held her on my palm, feeling like Kong Kong, and she leaned forwards and kissed me on the end of my nose.
“You”, I said, gently ruffling her hair and lifting her back onto my shoulder, “Are quite something.”
“Ain’t I just?” She danced a little victory jig and then reached up to my ear.
“Now, where were we?”
Gyppo