Plugging The Pooch
Plugging The Pooch
A Writer Converses with His Internal Editor
Writer: Well, it’s time to kill the dog.
Internal Editor: Pardon me? What did you say? Kill the dog? You can’t kill the dog.
W: What do you mean I can’t kill the dog? The story dictates that the dog has to die so the dog has to die.
IE: But it’s just a puppy. How can you kill a poor, innocent puppy?
W: Hey, look, I didn’t say I was happy about it, did I? I mean, I don’t want to kill the dog but the dog has to die so the hero will get off his ass and chase the bad guy. And the readers, they need to be enraged enough to look forward to the horrible death the bad guy will suffer in the end.
IE: But a puppy?
W: It’s not a damn puppy! It’s an adult dog.
IE: With years left to its little life, and you would callously snatch those years away. Monster!
W: I am not a monster! It’s just a story and in the story the damn dog has to die!
IE: Calm down. You’re getting hysterical.
W: I’m getting hysterical? You’re the one having a cow because I need to kill the dog! Look! I just wacked 467 humans in a terrorist bombing. I don’t recall you bitching about that!
IE: Ok. Kill the damn dog. See if I care. You monstrous prick.
W: Buzz off. I’m killing the dog now.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . (time passes) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (more time passes) . . . . . . . . .
W: My stomach hurts.
IE: You can’t kill the dog, can you?
W: I’m working on it, ok? This is a very creative process. It has to be done just right to maximize the effect.
IE: You can’t kill the dog, can you?
W: Maybe I’ll just wound the dog. Yeah, that’s it. A bullet to the hip. A swift kick in the ribs. That’ll work almost as well.
IE: Gasp! Wound the dog!? That’s worse than killing the dog. Think of the pain the poor thing will go through, you inhuman bastard. It’ll lose all faith in mankind. You would do that to a poor dog? What kind of monster are you anyway?
W: Alright, alright. I won’t kill the goddamned dog. Does that make you happy?
IE: You’re a peach.
W: And you’re a pain. Let me see. Can’t kill the damn dog but I need a traumatic moment here. Hmmmmm. Eureka! I’ve got it. I’ll kill little Johnny.
IE: Pardon me? What did you say? Kill little Johnny? You can’t kill a kid.
W: Arggggg! (Flings laptop out the window) To hell with this!
IE: Where are you going? The story isn’t finished.
W: And it never will be. I quit. I’d rather go back to selling insurance than be hounded by you.
