Would you like Orlando Bloom or Ralph Fiennes as your inner editor?

It's Shelley's fault. When she posted about Harrison Ford being her inner editor, I realized I didn't need to be contented with mine--a disembodied monotone voice that never loses an argument and leaves no room for doubt in her highly critical opinions. I decided to re-imagine my inner editor.

[Warning: this frivolous post may nauseate the serious-minded among you, but I promise it is still completely and utterly writing-related. Really.]

Who would I rather have as my inner editor?


Someone who can shoot arrows at my plot holes.

Someone who will cut down the clutter
that sprouts up like bamboo in my story.

Someone who knows patience from having to chip away at a wall with a tiny tool, and who wouldn't mind diving into sewage if it means freedom on the other side.



Someone who knows resilience by having to rely only on his left foot to create.


Someone who knows that being vulnerable and being willing to share authentically, even if it means you open yourself to rejection and misunderstanding, is the way to touch your audience.


Someone who can give me the "Come on, you can do better than that" accusing look, in that irresistible smoldering manner that I cannot but jump back into working.



Someone who knows my every fear and will not buy any of my excuses; and who, although doesn't read fiction, approaches every lecture he gives, every technical or philosophical paper he writes, as telling a story.


[Do you know every single person here? Can you name one thing about each of them? ]