I've made three separate starts to this post. Deleted them all.
Frieda Schultz, my internal editor, is very much alive and kicking. Demanding to be heard. Demanding things be done HER way. She's way too controlling for her own good.
"It's too boring."
This actually gives me a little heads up in that I need to silence her with some chocolate or cheesecake - or a hammer - before I start to work today.
Because if I don't, I won't get anywhere on my manuscript. And since I'm smack in the middle of first draft, she could trip me up really bad.
"That last sentence is crappy. Take it out. Think about how you really want to say it."
Shut up, Frieda. Go back to your knitting. I'll call you when I'm ready.
And when I'm ready - when I really need her by my side and up my whatev - do you think she's around?
"Sorry, luv, touring the pyramids this week. Call me next. We'll set a time."
Get in touch with your internal editor. Make sure she show's up when she's supposed to.
But you can't have Frieda.