Stop talking to me. I’m the boss and you don’t get to say how I write you.
No, you can’t have mint chocolate chip ice cream. You’re lactose intolerant, which is why you are so gassy and bloated and insist on wearing shapewear before you answer the phone. Remember Chapter 2?
You can’t speak to the manager. I’m the manager around here.
I’ve considered your proposal to kill Cindy in Chapter 4 and I’m going to pass. Just because she didn’t like your Instagram post is not enough motivation to put a knife to her throat.
Yes, even if she’s a skank.
Thank you for your interest in the storyline, but I will decline to give you a pet lion. They are dangerous, distracting, and don’t go with your homebody, depressed persona at this point in the narrative.
No. You have to be depressed about your husband leaving you to ride an e-bike across Canada, especially since he took the cat and your favorite bra with him. Everything makes sense that way.
No. Everyone else can’t be depressed so you can have a lion.
You can’t drive an F1 car and date Carlos Sainz. You stay home at this juncture in the story. That’s what you do. You eat, cry, read, and watch TV. It might have been a mistake to include Drive to Survive in your viewership profile, so I’ll go back to chapter 7, and you can watch Big Bang Theory instead. That’s more your vibe, anyway.
So last night wasn’t funny. I felt like you were watching me sleep, and I don’t appreciate it. And stop whispering the names of dairy products in my ears when my eyes are closed. I can hear you.
You can’t follow me into the shower either! Respect the boundaries and stop yelling at me to give you a love interest as hot as Ryan Reynolds. You feel unlovable, and I can make you never have a love interest! Get that through your one-dimensional brain.
Where did chapter 12 go?
I see what you did, and you can’t kill Cindy, have a lion, and marry Ryan Gosling. I’m deleting the new chapter 12 you wrote. Let’s see. Your last name can’t be Kardashian. You can not have a three-way with Ryan Reynolds and Carlos Sainz or Sheldon for that matter. You do not win an Oscar. You do not vote for Trump. You have to work up to being well. It doesn’t happen in one chapter.
I know it was you who renamed the file Kate Kardashian and The Three-Way That Rocked Her Skinny World. This has gone too far. You were just about to turn the corner, too. Now I don’t know who to trust or what your healing journey should be. Maybe you’ll have to spend some time in an ashram with no access to the internet, eating nothing but vegetables. Would that work?
Oh, and I choose the title — non-negotiable!
Who are you right now? You are not the person in chapter 34 who made amends with Cindy when she wanted to help you get out of your shell.
No. You can’t have a lion and a tub of ice cream to cheer you up.
If you didn’t want short hair and stumpy legs, you should not have changed my words. Get over yourself and maybe I’ll lengthen your lashes. Would that help?
No, you can’t have a different author. I’m the one you spoke to originally, and I’m the one you’re stuck with. Trust me, I don’t want you either at this point.
Did you talk to my husband?! He looks pretty pleased with himself and is asking for a revision to include him in your sex scene, which I deleted by the way.
This is war.
Good news! I’ve organized for Cindy to be your roommate at the ashram. I hope you learn your lessons there.
Oh, and she packed a karaoke machine and a harp. You’re welcome.
I think I’ll celebrate with mint chocolate chip ice cream. By myself.
It’s frustrating writing a book. My main character talks to me without warning: in the shower, in my sleep, in flagrante. I’d sometimes love to give her a taste of her own medicine. I guess I could kill her…
With regards to rule #1 - I have never yet heard an author say that the characters don't sometimes take over the storyline and lead in a direction completely unrelated and unexpected. Proof of this are rules #2-24.