I just want to say to you all the I’m very sorry about the title of Monday’s blog post, the one relating to girls and boys and opening doors. It most of you don’t remember the title, that’s o-kay with me. Really. It’s just great. Don’t bother looking for it because it’s not there anymore.
To those of you who read it, I owe you an apology. I will say that right after I wrote it, I had concerns about the title, and I changed it immediately, but when I posted it to facebook, the original title showed up there. I didn’t catch it for a full day, and I’ve been pretty worried about it.
|I bring you a peace offering; a little bunny.
Let me just tell you how my writing process works. I have two workers up in my brain. They’re a team, but they have an uneasy relationship. First, I have my little creative guy that is like the Tasmanian Devil, the little monster in Bugs Bunny that spins around, destroying everything in it’s path. That’s my guy except he’s creative instead of destructive. He’s wild, exciting, totally out of control, and not to concerned with accuracy or the feelings of other people. He has little regard for rules or social conventions. But unfortunately, he’s absolutely necessary to the writing process.
After he’s done, my little editor comes out. She always dies at the mess Tasman left, even if there’s some gold nuggets in the debris. She straightens everything up, puts things in order,and performs spell check. She asks questions like, “Does this make sense? Is this honest? Does this joke undermine the very point I’m trying to make?”
For a long time, the editor liked to be out at the same time as Tasman. (The editor can be a little bit of a control freak.) She liked to keep her eye on him just to make sure things didn’t get too out of hand. At one point, she even suggested putting him on a leash. Tasman had a fit about it and went to sulk in his cave. She couldn’t get him out for days. Since she couldn’t do anything with an empty page, (she was a cleaner not a creator) she finally had to capitulate.
She told him that she would go down into the basement while he did his work, and she wouldn’t come out until he was all done. That arrangement has worked pretty well until Monday, when Tasman was even more out of line than usual, and the editor didn’t catch his mess in time.
Now Tasman is back in his cave pouting while my editor is scolding him for not being more careful. Tasman just growls at her. I don’t know what to do about it.
Can you guys forgive me? I didn’t mean any harm. I can offer you a free bunny if it will help.