I’m sitting in my favorite morning spot: facing the office desk with the window to the park on my right. It’s early, and I’m the only one awake. Steam is slowly drifting off my coffee mug. I’m about to write. I hear a loud pop of gum and turn my head. Cassandra is sitting in a chair to my left, tan legs crossed, twirly a piece of glossy blonde hair around her manicured finger, looking at me with distain. “Why do you even bother writing? You have nothing new to say. Might as well give up and read the talented writers who are already published” she says venomously. My shoulders curl in and down. “Also, you’ve gained a lot of weight” she adds.
Battling the Inner Critic
Battling the Inner Critic
Battling the Inner Critic
I’m sitting in my favorite morning spot: facing the office desk with the window to the park on my right. It’s early, and I’m the only one awake. Steam is slowly drifting off my coffee mug. I’m about to write. I hear a loud pop of gum and turn my head. Cassandra is sitting in a chair to my left, tan legs crossed, twirly a piece of glossy blonde hair around her manicured finger, looking at me with distain. “Why do you even bother writing? You have nothing new to say. Might as well give up and read the talented writers who are already published” she says venomously. My shoulders curl in and down. “Also, you’ve gained a lot of weight” she adds.