My inner editor used to have a much better office. It was right behind my left eyebrow and spacious, with cushy carpeting, a nice view, and one of those big squishy leather chairs that adjust eleven different ways for optimal support. Since the re-organization of my brain, however, she's been moved to the boiler room, where she sits on a rickety stool and has only a headlamp for light. Poor thing.
She hasn't quit yet, though, she just takes a little longer to get things done. For example, I wrote a post last night at about seven, and it wasn't until I woke up to feed Cleo at midnight that the memo arrived at Central Command from the boiler room. It was not kind: "Nashing? Nashing? You have the rare chance to use a word as satisfying as "gnashing" and you blow it? This is your first warning. If things don't improve around here, I'm taking my headlamp and quitting for good."
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi, my name is Anna, and I'm anonymous! Well, kind of. If you're one of the people who's lucky enough to know both Blogging Me and Real-Life Me, please don't use my full name, the names of my family members, my hometown, or the name of my pet elephant (oops, I think I just outed myself) in your comment. My paranoid family and I thank you: thank you!
Also, I moderate all the comments. So if you slip up and tell everyone my social security number (or any other personally identifiable information), don't worry, I just won't publish your comment.