Writing with myself

Posted byKatie SullivanPosted inOn Writing, The DialogueTags:, , , , , ,

D: A? A, where are you? A, we have a post to write.

A: (muffled) I’m over here.

D: What are you doing over there? How did you manage to get in there, anyway? Is that a – wait, I don’t want to know what that is.

A: I’m hiding.

D: Did they finally finger you in the cookie caper?

A: Huh? Have you been reading crime noir again?

D: Maybe.

A: Okay, well you can go back to that. I’m good here.

D: No, you’re not. That looks awfully cramped, and I’m not sure your neck is supposed to bend at that angle. What are you hiding from, anyway?

A: Myself.

D: . . . You never cease to amaze me, A—

A: Why, thank you D.

D: I wasn’t done. You never cease to amaze me with the depths of your madness.

A: Why, thank you D.

D: (eye roll). Why are you hiding from yourself?

A: It’s either hide or reach through the mists of time and wring my neck. I’m thinking hiding is better.

D: . . .

A: It’s not right, D! It’s not right what I do during hand edits. Why don’t you stop me?!

D: Because it’s really funny.

Writing notes to myself should not be allowed.
Writing notes to myself should not be allowed.

A: . . . Letting me write notes to myself is funny? Not editing a few pages and then leaving me a pithy note saying “You’ll know what to do…” is amusing?

D: Well, when you say it in that tone of voice, no. But at the time, it was hilarious.

A: It’s not fair, that’s what it is – I don’t remember what I write during hand edits D. It’s like Christmas every time I turn a page to see what I did with it. When I see a blank page, I start to wonder if maybe I was just being lazy. When I see a blank page with a ‘love note’ from myself, I start to wonder if maybe I was really a sadomasochist with a death wish.

D: So that’s why you were yelling at the draft yesterday.

A: Yep.

D: Did you fix the scene?

A: (deep breath) Yep.

D: Well then there you go. You knew you could do it.

A: Don’t push it.

D: I would also like to point out that I have as much control over editing you as I do over writing you.

A: I suppose.

D: I mean, you whip out that red pen and all hell breaks loose on the page. I run when that happens A. It’s safer.

A: Coward.

D: Yep. Now what are you waiting for? Haven’t you read the part where you told yourself to re-write the first six chapters of the next section? Time to get writing, woman.

A: I did what?

D: You haven’t gotten to that note?

A: No.

D: So, I think I hear the kettle boiling. Or the doorbell – yeah, that’s it. Will you excuse–

A: D, where do you think you’re goi–

D: Sorry, have to run – it’s been swell! See you, A!

Seriously, I should not leave notes to myself in my edits, even if it is my own personal form of time travel. It’s just not nice, plus it’s a bad writing habit and more than a little lazy. Luckily, it’s fairly harmless (unless I do figure out how to reach back and wring my neck. Then I’m in trouble). What is your worst, funny and harmless, bad habit?

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Published by Katie Sullivan

Descended of pirates and revolutionaries, Katie Sullivan is a lover and student of all things Irish. Born in the States, she is a dual US/Irish citizen, and studied history and politics at University College, Dublin – although, at the time, she seriously considered switching to law, if only so she could attend lectures at the castle on campus. She lives in Milwaukee with her daughter, two cats and a pesky character in her head named D (but you can call him Dubh). Her first series, The Changelings Saga, a young adult historical fantasy trilogy is available on Amazon. She can be found writing with said character at her blog, The D/A Dialogues.

16 thoughts on “Writing with myself”

    1. I feel your pain – my Dad now types his edits when he reads my stuff, because his handwriting is so bad. As for fidgeting with hands, I keep a coffee mug or can of something near by at all times, for just that reason. Either that or a pencil, but usually I end up sticking it in my hair and forgetting where it went, but that’s another bad habit all together! 🙂

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  2. I feel your pain, Katie 🙂 Hand editing is not a good idea for me not just because my notes can be cryptic, but also the handwriting itself is often indecipherable. That brilliant idea that I’ll just make a note about and get back to later rarely comes across well (if at all) in a few words of gibberish. And I am also one of those who doesn’t change into proper clothes until late in the day on weekends 😉

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    1. I’m right there with you – my chicken scratch is deplorable. It’s good to know I’m not the only one with cryptic notes scattered throughout my edits (or the only one not dressed on the weekend – the kid *loves* those weekends as he is a self-declared comfy man)! 🙂

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  3. I feel your pain. I have gotten to the point where I am editing the edits and it’s already published, but not published perfectly, and we all know that it has to be perfect. Really, I think I need to let this little bird fly.

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      1. There is a sentence in my book that is missing a preposition. I saw it when I was doing a final proof, but it was only one error that was trivial. I let it go, because it would have meant uploading the manuscript again to KDP and contacting my independent publisher to do the same. Now it is bugging me and I have been re-reading and I cannot find it. It is there, somewhere, and I have probably read it over and over but my eyes can’t see it. I know it is there. It is either the word “to” or the word “the” and I am determined to find it and correct it. I feel like I am looking for a needle in a haystack. This is insane.

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      2. Deep breaths! I know it’s going to bug you, so I hope you find it and are able to fix it easily. 🙂

        I’ve read a lot of older book reprints and I always sub in words I know are supposed to be there. I’m probably the worst kind of critical reader because if I like the ‘story,’ I give the writer all sorts of wiggle room.

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      3. You are generous. Some are not. I can be hypercritical of my own work where I would not be toward the work of someone else. OCD? I might need to just adjust my meds.

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      4. 🙂 It’s okay. I think writers as a breed are a little OCD – despite the whole, ‘hey it’s 2pm and I haven’t changed out of my bathrobe’ thing (I only get to do that on saturdays and sundays, and only on rare ones at that, but I live for it!)

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  4. I do the same thing. My latest one was ‘insult Nyx repeatedly’ and I have no idea what I meant by that. It was at the top of a page with no indication of what I was looking at when I wrote it. Very confusing and embarrassing. I think it’s part of the job.

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    1. I think so, too. The part where we drive ourselves crazier! 🙂 The one I really love to yell at though is the “meh” that will be in the margins. No notes on how to correct it, just ‘meh.’ I find some choice words for myself then.

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      1. Never done that. I use ‘add more’ or ‘take away’. One time I put a big ‘X’ through a page and wrote ‘never mind’ at the top. Couldn’t figure out which one came first.

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      2. That is awesome! That one wins. I’m not sure what the prize is, but it should win.

        I really enjoy the trust those kind of notes rely on – as if, while editing (for me at least), my brain is somehow 10 times more retentive than it is normally.

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