She has her own bedroom carpeted in pink shag and a beanbag chair where she can hang out and read all my blog posts.
Although, read might be too strong of a word. I think peruse is a better description.
Last week I was confronted in the kitchen about a guest post that Hart Johnson did on my blog entitled "Can We Love Our Second Children As Much" in which she talked about her recently released second book.
"Mom," my inner editor said, blocking my path to the office. "How could you write that? Is that really the way you feel about Child #2? You really don't love him as much as you love me?"
Understandably, I was a little slow on the uptake. My inner editor cleared it up by showing me the blog post.
"Did you read past the title?" I asked.
"Yes!" My inner editor HATES questions like that.
"Huh. So you saw I didn't write that post and that it was a metaphor for a second book?"
In lieu of a response my inner editor informed me that she, under no circumstances, will ever wear an "I'm a Peg-a-Sister" shirt. From this, I've taken it to understand that I can't hide my Christmas list ideas on the open forum of my blog.
Even though they'd make really, really good blog posts, in the interests of household harmony they're going to have to sit on ice until my inner editor is slightly older, you know, like thirty-six with kids of her own.
Inner editors are tough customers.
Especially when they can burst into your bathroom while you're taking a shower and insist on heated conversation while you're trying to wash your hair. In order to avoid moments like that, this summer, instead of posting about pre-teen angst, I might be talking about censor-approved subjects like ice cream, swimming, road trips and books.
Luckily, I still get free reign in my novels. And luckier still, lots of character insight into the ups, downs and switchback roads of a pre-teen mind.
What about you? Is your inner editor the kind of tough critic who haunts you in the shower? Or does yours give you a little more leeway?