I have to edit my story. It’s not my favorite thing, but if I get in a groove, I can do it and even enjoy it. Actually the story needs more than simple editing. It needs rewriting. And I like writing. So I just need to hunker down and do it. But the groove is elusive and I have to work hard to find it.
My difficulty in finding my groove is mostly due to this little creature living inside my head. It likes exactly the same things I do. It also dislikes all the same things as me. The creature is devious. Way more devious than me. It is sneaky beyond any person I’ve ever met or any character that I’ve created so far. It is the creature who, when I sit down to edit, gives me a whole bunch of fascinating story ideas that I could be writing instead of reworking what I’ve already created. It is the creature who, when I am folding laundry, suddenly remembers the Hershey Kisses that are waiting in the cabinet. Thank goodness this creature has me, otherwise it would be lying in MY bed right now devouring a delicious novel with a growing pile of crinkled foil wrappers next to it. Wrappers that eventually would be discovered by my children or my husband. (It is inevitable that I would fail to find all those silver wrappers and throw them away. Creature is not very neat.) And then I would have to take the blame!
But I really can’t complain about her. I love her. She gives me my best story ideas, introduces me to new characters I have yet to meet, lets me have some fun. She gives me hours, even days, off and insists I take vacations in my bed with books and chocolate as my companions.
She probably deserves a name better than Creature. Even if you disregard for a moment the definition of the word, the actual sounds in the word “creature” do not make a very pleasing noise. I can’t think of a good name for her though. Whenever I call her Creature, she perks up with an innocent expression that even I, who tend to give most everyone the benefit of the doubt, can see through. I like her like that. I like her deviousness. Maybe I should call her Devious. I like the sound of that word better. But I don’t think she really cares. She doesn’t concern herself with this type of thing. This is my thing. She already knows who she is and she does not need a label for herself.
Why would she when she is so happy getting to do so many things her way . . . such as writing this instead of editing . . . Devious Creature.