That bitch

It sucks. It all sucks like a vacuum.

Huh? What?

Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.

Ummmm...

They're flat, bland, uninteresting. In other words, it's all a load of crap.

You're not reading it right.

Dudette, honey-bunch, darling-sugah-pop. I'm only saying this because I care about you. I'm reading as you're writing. I'm in your head; of course I'm reading it right.

So... it doesn't work for you?

Not on any level. You should try something new, like, oh say, getting a real job.

Now you're being mean. I love writing and...

Yes, but it's never any good is it.

I've written a lot, though and...

Give it up, sweet-cheeks. Dump this crap. After all that work, don't put yourself through this again. You're wasting your time, my time and anyone else's time by posting this bilge. It's time to do something else. You'll never write anything of worth and I hate to see you beat your head against a brick wall like this.

Maybe if I write something new... something different, another genre perhaps...

* * *

Ah, the inner critic. Everyone has that bitch; that voice in your head undermining your craft. It's sourced in childhood when it seemed everything you did was smirked at or you were patted on the head, condescended to. It didn't have to be that darling little story you wrote when you were ten, the sweet little picture you painted at aged six that looked nothing like the object and everyone had an opinion.

"Oh, well, it's just a phase..." "She'll/He'll grow out of it." "Talent? Of course, but it takes more than that, doesn't it, to make a living."

Parents are excellent at explaining embarrassing gaffes their children inadvertently perpetrate on them. But the intent stays with the child, as if creativity isn't as important as one day finding a well-paid real job. As if mediocrity is more important than finding your own way.

For my siblings and I, it was higher than average IQs. "An A-? Well, we're sure you'll do better next time. We know you have the potential." "Nearly an A? Nearly isn't good enough." Wow, that still rings in my head today. So dismissive and created in us the overwhelming urge to be perfect.

It also creates the inner critic, the one that says 'nearly isn't good enough' that any mistake is catastrophic, an embarrassment, a crushing defeat. It can also block any attempt to succeed, because if it ain't perfect, or award winning, or [insert list here], it's worthless.

So, the only solution is to Kill That Bitch:

It sucks. It all sucks like a vacuum.

Huh? What?

Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.

Lucky for me then, that I'm not writing songs, or that I'm writing for you.

Sure you are. Without me, you'd...

Have a much more peaceful life. Less stress, more creativity, more success, be happier.

Nah... I'm here to protect you from failure, from embarr...

From getting on with it, from listening to the muse, from taking con-structive - rather than de-structive - criticism and making my work better. So piss off, would you.

You don't mean that.

Yes. I do.

I'll be back; you know I will.

I know that, but you'll get the same comment.

Oh? And what's that O Great Sage?

My fingers in my ears going "La-la-la-la, I'm not listening!"

Yeah... LA-LA-LA-LA... Hey! LA-LA-LA-LA... I'm a part of you; you can't... LA-LA-LA-LA...

And the next time you show up, I'll introduce to mah liddle friend: The Inner Editor!

You wouldn't dare! Damn you, TIE!!!!