A Day in The Life of Algernon

My inner critic and me unmasked

Algernon, Humphrey, a rainbow over the village Sarah & John is days gone bye, that was my dog training manual 😁

Welcome to all my new subscribers, and my old ones, thanks so much for being here.

My posts are eclectic, often bordering on eccentric. This morning's post takes it one step further, into fantasy land. Why, you ask? Writing can be a lonely pastime, and having reached the point of hitting the quota of words for my crap memoir, I hit the wall. Algernon, my inner critic, has plonked himself not only on my shoulder but chained himself around my neck. Even writing my Substack has become difficult.

Lightbulb 💡 moment, as I was rummaging around the badger set, having already disrupted the rabbits 🐇 and foxes 🦊, but not yet moved into the otter 🦦. If I can draw a picture of Algernon, why not go one step further? A long time ago, someone told me to think of my Nemesis sitting on the toilet 🚽 with their pants around their ankles. It is not bad advice. We are all the same on a toilet. It is a great leveller. Don't panic. Algernon won't be on the toilet. But here goes:

I am staring out of the window into the garden. It is sunny; the blue tits are flitting from tree to tree, looking for berries. The red kite appears overhead. All blue tits disappear into the giant yew tree. I am in a determined mood. I am a writer.

Algernon - The last kick up the arse that stupid woman gave me yesterday really hurt. Look what she's done to my hat; it's all crumpled, covered in black dog hair, and I now need a new one. She can't even do the housework properly. 

At least I landed on the dog's bed. It might be disgusting, but at least it's a bit softer. Where's my cane? There it is, under the ridiculous woman's chair. She is trying to write that stupid, nonsensical memoir again—time for revenge.

Me - This isn't getting anything done.

Algernon - There's no pointing sitting down, you delusional woman. Now I have my new perfectly formed hat and my cane, I can start poking your idiotic backside. I ought to sharpen the tip; it would be even more effective in driving the point home. So you think you are a writer, do you? You, pathetic woman, you are useless.

Me - I must pull myself together and get on with my editing. I can finish this book. I will finish this book.

I look away from the window, open my laptop and find the file. I start reading and editing. 

Me- I can do this. But then is this book really any good? Yes, it is. I've got this far I must keep going. 

Algernon - I hate this climb onto your shoulder. Why do you keep pushing me off? Surely, you realise your memoir, or whatever you call it, is garbage.

I'll lull her into a false sense of security for a few minutes. Let her think she can actually write something others want to read—foolish woman. 

Me - Another section edited and a couple of hundred words added, success. 74,574 now. I am getting there. Ok, Millie, time to take you out; I need a break.

Algernon - When she comes back, I'll let the fun begin. I'm getting bored. Look at those ugly little blue tits hiding from the magnificent red kite. Maybe not so manificent, but rather stupid, he hasn't caught a thing.

The pitiful woman’s back. Now's my chance to hop onto her shoulder. 

Me - I can edit one more section and get up to 75,000 words today. Better save another copy. 

Algernon - it's a much better view from your shoulder. I can see the garbage you’re writing. What a load of twaddle. Dear Lady, you realise that the sentence you've just written makes no sense at all.

Me - I am running out of steam. If I had any. That last sentence was no good.

Algernon - Good, at least I know you’re listening. 

Me - Is any of this book any good? 

Algernon - At last, the penny is dropping.

Me - Yes, I it is. I have written 74,612 words. I am a writer. I can do it.

Algernon - Stop trying to brush me off. I’m staying right here. It’s payback day.

Me - 74,759 words down, but are they rubbish?

Algernon - Of course, they are rubbish. In fact, madam, they are total gibberish.

Me - I admit some of it is just ok, but I'm not a writer. I never have been and never will be. 

Algernon - For once, you're talking sense. It's all gobbledygoop nonsense. Full of grammatical errors, there is no creativity in anything you writing. It is a boring story nobody wants to read. You’re an illiterate woman living an insignificant life with three out of control dogs. You can't even train your dogs properly, tidy your house, or do anything properly. You are a total failure in everything you do.

Me - time to Jack it all in. I will delete all the drafts and forget the whole idea.

Algernon - My day is complete. My chain well is well truly locked around your neck.  I have achieved my revenge. The delirious woman will not open that file again. 

I close the laptop, call Humphrey, put his ball and poo bags in my pocket and head towards the muddy fields in the pouring rain. I feel despondent and useless. I'm definitely not writer and I never will be.

Algernon - It's raining outside. I think I will remove the chain and find a nice, dry, warm corner to wait for the next round. I deserve a snooze. I am not going into the wet with those disgusting hounds. I don't want to ruin another hat. I will lock the chain back on tomorrow

The rain stops, and the sun emerges as we walk around the field. Time to head back, I call Humphrey. He comes charging out of the river with his ball in his mouth and sits quietly in front of me. I put his lead back on and towards the village. A bright double rainbow 🌈 appears. John and Sarah come into my mind. It is their story as much as mine. Tomorrow is another day, watch out Algernon, I'm going to kick you so hard you will go over that rainbow.

Congratulations for getting to the end of this total gibberish. Your prize, my undying gratitude 😁. 

Today's prompts are for you to use or not use your way, but don't let your Algernon interfere.

If you could have a conversation with your Algernon what would he sound like and what would you say?

Here in the UK, Autumn is creeping ever nearer, the school holidays are drawing to a close, and shops are gearing up to blast us with Christmas items on the shelves - please, no music until at least 15th December. I realise for some readers, Spring is on the horizon.

What is the warmest memory you have over the last two months? Physically & Metaphorically 

What do you love about Autumn/Spring?

Is there anything you dread about Autumn/Spring? 

What is your favourite season? 

Thank you for reading my eclectic rubbish. If you have enjoyed the experience please do subscribe and share with others. It makes an curmudgeon very happy and gives Algernon the grumps.