Wall

Gosh, am I an irregular blogger or what?  This is a spontanious update on my part, so please excuse my lack of a point besides letting you know I'm still alive and kicking.

I haven't been writing as much as I'd like to say I have.  Consistency is one of my greatest advasaries as a writer.  Part of that inconsistency is my own creation of barriers via pointless TV binging or internet surfing.  Even now I am putting off facing a new story that has hit a wall of sorts. 

The story is just not coming out in a way that feels, for lack of better words, good to me.  I started out with some strong images and ideas I wanted to incorporate, but the way they've started to string together leaves me frustrated.  The plot came from somewhere in me, but I can't identify with it.  I feel like the small part of me that connected with this story has fallen out and I'm not quite sure how it put it back in.

So, yeah.  Enough about me and my problems.  How are you this week?
 

Censor Revealed!

I have found my inner critic!  Now I can squash it!

Okay, that was a bit of violent (for me, at least).  Let me explain.

I read "Squelch Your Inner Censor" by Jacquelyn b. Fletcher last summer in the Writer's Digest Creativity Guide.  One of the methods Fletcher suggests is to find a physical manifestation for your inner critic, something you can laugh at, abuse, or physcialy put away to  help shut off that annoying little voice telling you, "you can't do this."

I casually collect urban vinyl figures and recently picked up this rather grotesque little creature in a blind assortment box.

Creepy, right?  I wasn't sure what to do with her at first, but have come to realize that she is the perfect manifestation for my inner critic.  I've even given her a name I despise yet find fitting for such a serious and hard working creature: Ernestine.

With her face on, Ernestine looks kind and helpful, right? Wrong!  This is nothing but a cover up for her nasty ways.  Look at that little pursed mouth, those falsely pink cheeks and her cute little hat.  They're nothing but a sugary sweet cover up for one nit picky, spineless little creature who isn't up to any good. 

The only thing she's good at is making confidence shattering comments that keep you down and out as a writer. She'll whisper, her voice lulling and hypnotic, in your ear, "Is that the best you can do?  What makes you think you can call yourself a writer?"

Yes, her Umbridge-like personality makes her seem like your best friend, but take her face off -

 And you will see her for the pitiful creature she is.  She's ugly and unhappy because of her cruel ways.

When she gets too noisy, I can put her under a cup and just watch her frown at me.  Like so.

Now I can continue writing in peace.

Okay, okay, I confess, I have yet to actually try this exercise (I'm getting ahead of myself again), but I'm visualizing it working, so it's bound to help, right?  I'm forever the optimist to counter Ernestine's pessimism.

So, what does you're inner critic look or sound like and how do you tell them off?