My Writing Day with an Unproductive Brain
|My coworkers hear it all the time|
and are profoundly uninterested
also me: Oh. My. God. Why bother? No one reads your books. No one thinks they're anything more than adequate. You can't seem to change your style to fit what people want. You're old news. OLD. NEWS. Stale old voice. There's no point in writing yet another book that no one will wants--
me: How about if they finally talk instead of just hinting around? Yeah, and maybe that guy will say what's been on his mind since chapter two.
also me: Jesus. So boring. Talk, talk, talk. You know that your--
me: How about if they--
also me: --you know your books are worthless because people want conflict and angst. They don't want to read another book with so little at stake.
me: Good point for once. Let's get some conflict with an actual meanie for a change. I have his motivation and--
also me: Why aren't you listening to me? there is no point in doing this anymore. You have dozens of books out, no one reads them, you lame, sad lil creature.
me: Uh huh. We do this every few months. Get it alllll out. Juuuuuuust finish up the whining so I can back to the story. I really need all of me to figure out why these people aren't--
also me: Don't you get it? YOU WILL NEVER BE A SUCCESS. You sort of were but that bus dropped you off and the route is shut down and--
me: Yup, got it.
also me: Why the hell are you still bothering with this nonsense? Why don't you go do something useful in the world before you're too old and gaga?
me: Right. I don't have time for this. Maybe I'll make them drink coffee instead of tea in this scene. And some little cakes.
also me: We're hungry.