Well, it’s that time again.

I write yet another draft of a book and then I grab my scissors with a semi-crazy look in my tired eyes and start cutting it up. I gleefully use a stapler, too, for good measure.

I usually have cookies on hand to adhere to ‘Cathy’s Healthy Eating Diet’ and I mutter things like, “You are a terrible writer…this is a terrible book…I can’t believe you wrote that, Cathy. Why on Earth did you think that was a plausible idea?…that character is ridiculous, delete him, don’t argue with me he IS ridiculous…you should have been a carpenter and why do you have to eat THAT many cookies?”

So pleasant, that voice inside my head.

The glorious life of a writer continues.