Rilla sorts out writer-ish things with Edie, her rather critical inner editor.
Rilla: Okay, Edie. We’ve been working together for some time, and I think you need to understand something I’ve figured out about me—us.
Edie: And that is…
Rilla: I write for the joy of it. I truly believe we’re not seeing eye-to-eye on this, and I need you to get onboard so I can finish The Zorce Collection.
Edie: Meaning, you want me to stop being honest? You’d rather I didn’t tell you the uninteresting, unpolished, unprintable things you write are trash and need to be burned?
Rilla: Yeah. Pretty much.
Edie: I can do that. In fact, I have no problem letting you wallow in the mire of your own dumb compositions.
Rilla: Now Edie, you’re a good editor. You’ve saved me from a lot of mistakes, I grant you–
Edie: And this is the gratitude I receive for being there for you at all hours? All hours! Because you know I wake you in the middle of the night so you can know about that typo in the comment you posted yesterday! Who else would be as concerned about your image? Protecting you has been my top priority for over thirty years now, and all you can say is, ‘You’re a good editor, Edie, now shut it’? I see how it is.
Rilla: That’s not what I said, Edie. Nobody’s doubting your loyalty here. I don’t want you to quit; I just want you to look at our work as a personal reflection rather than a marketable product.
Edie: ‘Our work.’ Thank you; I appreciate that. So, you’re saying the trilogy you’ve been wrestling with for years is now a personal reflection? You’re going to spend—who knows how many—years to complete three books, and then you want to stick it in your little diary and call it a day?
Rilla: Yes. That is exactly what I mean.
Edie: (jaw-drop) What a waste of your life! Why would you want to do that?
Rilla: It’s simple. I need the freedom to write what I want to write without thinking of who’s going to look at it and what it’s going to make them think. We did that last time, remember? Where did it get us?
Edie: (nodding) I see your point. We’ve been trying to peg this story down for almost a decade.
Rilla: Ugh. Don’t say that.
Edie: Well, it’s true. But, I will admit, you’ve been able to eke out a few good stories, even while you were blocked.
Rilla: Thank you. So, what do you think? If we work on The Zorce Collection as a reflection of our life rather than a product, how would that change the approach?
Edie: Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have to stop you mid-scene to ask if the scene itself is really necessary.
Edie: The dialogue could be as long as you want it. The word count wouldn’t matter.
Edie: Ooo, here’s a big one: I wouldn’t have to alert you every time you divulge something that hints at your own painful experiences.
Rilla: Bingo, Edie. That’s the one that’s holding us back.
Edie: So, are you calling this a memoir now?
Rilla: Absolutely not! This is Casey and Ivan’s story. They need to be able to speak, and they can say what they need to say much better if they don’t have a self-conscious author in the mix second-guessing and censoring herself.
Edie: I see.
Rilla: What do you think? Can we give this a go?
Edie: You know how I despise that long-winded garble you call your style. Will I have to wade through that again? I refuse to work with you unless I can still rip apart the scenes that don’t speak the way I think they should.
Rilla: I’ll make you a deal; if you’ll give me time to get the scenes out on paper, I’ll take you page-by-page, through the section when we’ve finished. You can clean it up to your heart’s content.
Edie: It has to be crisp. You know that’s very important to me. Clean and crisp.
Edie: I’m willing to try it. Anything to get this monstrosity out of our head.
Rilla: Thank you, Edie.
Edie: And when we’re done, who knows? Maybe you’ll want to publish it anyway, and…
Rilla: No. Edie.
Edie: I don’t see why. Can’t you just think about that an itsy-bitsy bit?
Rilla: No. We write The Zorce Collection, and it’s done. That will free us to work on (whispers name of fully-written children’s story draft).
Edie: Ah. Yes, that’s been dangling there for some time.
Rilla: Are we agreed?
Edie: We never agree, but I will concede with this one set of stories–which is all I’m giving you!
Rilla: Good enough.