Editor: Hello lovely readers. If you remember the last time we were here... actually, I hope you don’t remember the last time we were here, as it ended in a brawl. Anyway, since then, my alter egos and I have had several heart-to-heart discussions, and we decided to have another go at this. Our Reporter self—

Reporter: Hi everyone! So glad to be here!

Editor: Um, yes… well, our Reporter self has done a great deal of research on the topic of psychotherapy, read a number of books on the subject, and–

R: Actually, I just looked it up on Wikipedia.

E:  …

R: You know, it’s really quite good. Wikipedia, I mean. Über helpful.

E: Really wish you told me that before I agreed to this.

R: Oh, now you’re being silly. Listen, all we really need to do is talk things out and everything will be fine.

E: Okay, but how can we talk things out if only two-thirds of us bother showing up?

(Door opens, Writer self walks in, takes seat next to Reporter.)

Click to Jump to Recipe

R: Ah, well. Now we’re all here then. How about we just get started airing things out. Writer self, why don’t you tell us how you’re feeling right now?

E: Hold up. I need to ask a question first.

R: All right. What do you need to ask me?

E: No, not you — her (points at Writer). Why are you holding a cigarette? 

R: Actually, I was wondering that too. We don’t smoke.

W: I know that. It’s just that it makes me feel more writerly.

E: That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. It’s not even lit!

W: Of course it’s not lit. We don’t smoke.

E: Dear God, I’m living with a moron.

R: What’s that you’re drinking? It looks good.

W: Oh it is! It’s a frozen margarita.

E: (scoffs) That’s not a proper drink for a writer! You should be drinking bourbon. Or scotch.

W: But I don’t like bourbon or scotch.

E: Well then why bother with the stupid cig– oh, never mind. Let’s just get on with this.

R: Good. Okay, now Writer self, how are you feeling right now?

W: Mmm? Oh… um… I feel good. Yeah, I feel real good.

R: How many of those have you had?

W: Not many…  This is my third.

(Editor takes drink from Writer and pours it in garbage can.)

W: Bitch.

R: Okay, let’s try and keep this civil. Remember what happened last time. All right, Editor self, please tell us what you’re feeling right now.

E: Frustrated.

R: That’s good! It’s good to get these things out in the open. Now Writer self, what do think might be making our Editor self so frustrated?

W: She needs to drink more.

E: All right, you see what I have to deal with? I seem to be the only one here with a genuine work ethic.

R: Excuse me? Where do you get off saying that? I’m oozing work ethic over here.

W: Um, yeah… about that…

R: What?

W: You ooze all right, but what you’re oozing isn’t always helpful.

R: What do you mean?

W: Well, remember that post I did for my family photo? All I asked for was some information on the Homestead Act.

R: Right. And I gave you tons of information, as I recall.

W: Exactly. Like, days later, you gave me info on all the various Homestead Acts, who was included or excluded from them, how the North and South argued over various points, told me about the famine in Western Europe, the climate of the Dakota territories compared to Norway, the displacement of Native Americans in the area, and all this somehow led to information on racism leading into the 1950s.

R: (clears throat, pulls at collar) Yes. Well. It was a fascinating topic.

W: All I wanted were the freakin’ dates!

R: Which, as I recall, you didn’t even use.

W: But I didn’t know that at the time, okay?

E: I think what we can take away from this, is that we need to stay focused. Writer, focus on writing. Stop trying to ‘feel’ like a writer and just write, okay? And Reporter, focus on getting the information that’s requested. Stop researching the whole damn universe.

R: But it’s such an interesting universe…

W: And sometimes it helps me to ‘feel’ like a writer. It puts me in the right frame of mind.

E: You two are impossible.

R: You know, you’re not nearly so perfect as you think you are.

E: I never claimed to be perfect, I simply strive for it. And I’d like to point out — since we’re supposed to be so open and honest with each other — that of the three of us, I’m the only one who has a truly marketable skill.

R & W: EXCUSE ME?!

E: Oh sure, there are writers and reporters who are gainfully employed, but I’m the only one here who’s managed to earn a paycheck for us, remember? I was actually employed as an editor.

R: Well, sure, but you hated the job, quit, and never went back to it.

E: I didn’t hate the job, I hated the environment. Big difference.

R: But you could have stayed with it and probably opened up more opportunities for us.

E: It was soul-crushing, okay? The ad people were depraved, the managing editor micromanaged, and the publisher was a corrupt little monster. Plus, most of the columnists couldn’t write anywhere near as well as… um…

W: Who? Who was a better writer?

E: Uh… I… um…

W: (gasps) Oh my gosh, were you going to say me?! You were, weren’t you? Oh my gawd, you think I’m a good writer!

E: I didn’t say that! I didn’t–

W: (squeals) You like me! You really like me!!!

E: (*facepalm*) Oh shit.

W: This calls for a celebration! I’m going to make frozen margaritas for all of us! I love you both! I love everyone! I love the entire universe!!! (skips out of room)

E: There’ll be no living with her now.

R: Idiot.