. . .Must . . stop. . . adding . . . stuff! . .
Editing. . . means. . . refining. . . and . . .cutting . . .away. . .
Who am I trying to kid. These muses are successfully using inspiration to force me over the deadline cliff like a demented lemming. . . Good thing they’re entertaining, or I’d have to resort to extreme measures to distract them.
They just laughed collectively; it was clearly an idle threat as I don’t have TV anymore.
They’re making it tough to cut dialogue or scenes. In fact, two new chapters keep trying to insert themselves. . . I’m resisting, but my will is not entirely my own; my fingers are possessed. . . The voices speak to me, tell me things. . . whisper of diabolical and amusing events and. . .
If I’m late, it’s their fault; they’re manipulating me. . .
They know my weaknesses. . .
They know me well. . .
Off to write those two new chapters. . .