There was a resident being in a house we lived in thirty years ago who we deemed responsible for hiding things that could not be found when they were needed.
He was called James, hailed from a nameless village a little west of Aberdeen, and (according to my children) had red hair and wore a pink tutu.
We left him behind for the new owners.
When we came to this house, we discovered it to have a black hole that absorbed things at inconvenient moments…with time the black hole has changed and become a safe place.
As in, “I can’t find _______ (insert whatever), Mumsie (me) must have put it in a safe place”.
Life’s interesting enough dealing with the shifting sands of the safe place, I don’t think I want to visualise an inner critic.
It might well conjure an older, grumpier iteration of James, and while I do love a Scottish accent, I’m over being criticised by men….
Love this, Charlotte--and I'm totally doing this exercise so I can name my IC and tell it to buzz off until it's needed. 🤣 I love your perspective and thoughtful tips--they always help me out! Thanks so much for all that you share. I always look forward to your letters!
Oh my. I just started noodling with my novel-in-the-drawer as my antidote to querying my second MS. Out marches the IC. Suddenly I feel like a six-year-old. IC has serious bad mommy vibes. I recovered, convinced myself the OG book had good bones and just needed some tweaks. But I’m going to do that process (thank you for your generosity) and see if I can put form to my detractor. Ooh, a name just popped into my head. My 7th grade nemesis - Azalene!
Oh what a great name--Azalene! Not only serious bad mommy vibes, but a seventh grade nemesis. Those ICs like to grab all the negative crap we've experienced and remind us relentlessly. I hope the process is fruitful. And happy Thanksgiving!
My inner critic (a sarcastic grey fox named Seth) always wants to know why I’m spending so much time on something when I don’t know if it will make any money, make me (or him) famous, or ever be read, sung, or seen. He thinks no art is worth making unless its fabulous destiny is assured. Seth is a drag. But I’m learning how to deal with him. Thank you for helping!!
Oh Seth, Seth, Seth. Sounds like he needs a good, looooong vacation. Maybe one of those endless cruises? And you can tell him from me that the only way art ever reaches its highest potential (whatever that may be) is through the twists and turns of the process.
There was a resident being in a house we lived in thirty years ago who we deemed responsible for hiding things that could not be found when they were needed.
He was called James, hailed from a nameless village a little west of Aberdeen, and (according to my children) had red hair and wore a pink tutu.
We left him behind for the new owners.
When we came to this house, we discovered it to have a black hole that absorbed things at inconvenient moments…with time the black hole has changed and become a safe place.
As in, “I can’t find _______ (insert whatever), Mumsie (me) must have put it in a safe place”.
Life’s interesting enough dealing with the shifting sands of the safe place, I don’t think I want to visualise an inner critic.
It might well conjure an older, grumpier iteration of James, and while I do love a Scottish accent, I’m over being criticised by men….
Oh yes! Bring James back to life for those mansplaining moments....I love this comment so much, it made me laugh out loud.
Love this, Charlotte--and I'm totally doing this exercise so I can name my IC and tell it to buzz off until it's needed. 🤣 I love your perspective and thoughtful tips--they always help me out! Thanks so much for all that you share. I always look forward to your letters!
Thank you, my friend! Your kind words mean so much to me. And good luck with naming (and taming) your IC!
Oh my. I just started noodling with my novel-in-the-drawer as my antidote to querying my second MS. Out marches the IC. Suddenly I feel like a six-year-old. IC has serious bad mommy vibes. I recovered, convinced myself the OG book had good bones and just needed some tweaks. But I’m going to do that process (thank you for your generosity) and see if I can put form to my detractor. Ooh, a name just popped into my head. My 7th grade nemesis - Azalene!
Oh what a great name--Azalene! Not only serious bad mommy vibes, but a seventh grade nemesis. Those ICs like to grab all the negative crap we've experienced and remind us relentlessly. I hope the process is fruitful. And happy Thanksgiving!
My inner critic (a sarcastic grey fox named Seth) always wants to know why I’m spending so much time on something when I don’t know if it will make any money, make me (or him) famous, or ever be read, sung, or seen. He thinks no art is worth making unless its fabulous destiny is assured. Seth is a drag. But I’m learning how to deal with him. Thank you for helping!!
Oh Seth, Seth, Seth. Sounds like he needs a good, looooong vacation. Maybe one of those endless cruises? And you can tell him from me that the only way art ever reaches its highest potential (whatever that may be) is through the twists and turns of the process.