rebeccakuder

Dear Inner Critic letters (January, 2026)

photo: shadow of human standing on sidewalk

[On a recent solo writing retreat, I noticed I needed to write something before I started writing. Here’s what I wrote.]

5 January, 2026 (Day One)

Dear Inner Critic,

It’s been a while. I have not really had much to say to you, but I noticed lately you’ve been sneaking in the back door of my thoughts, leaving plastic bags of rotten produce, a little stinky, I noticed you by the smell. Very sneaky, to find ways other than your usual mean notes scribbled on scraps of paper or your megaphone in my ear in the dark when I’m trying to sleep. The bags of yuck are not welcome, I asked you a long time ago to take them out to the compost, it’s almost as if you are digging up the junk from out back in order to bring it to me—why? I don’t need that stuff, those nasty packages, it can all just go back out there to fester & rot and make new soil. I do not need to smell its process. If you are trying to get my attention, just ask, just give me a face to face, just say what you mean. In the meantime, I don’t need your stinky parcels. I’m glad I realized it was you so I could remind you. I want you to find something else to do with your time & your trash bags. I don’t need your shade. Right now I’m trying something new, so just let me do it. You do your thing, somewhere else.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Love,
Rebecca

***

6 January, 2026 (Day Two)

Dear Inner Critic,

First of all, I can hear you muttering about how I didn’t do enough yesterday. That is your opinion. But I am not a machine. I don’t need to defend myself to you, but I will say that I needed some transition time, to get settled into the space & the time & the project. It’s not like I did nothing! Yes, I watched a trashy movie & took a bit of time to walk & shop. No I did not start that blessed Cat book yet. But I am going to give it a try today, and besides, who is in charge here? It’s me, not you. You are just a voice in the distance, you are not the one writing this novel. You are a pebble in my shoe, to be perfectly candid. At the very least, could you find something else to do, in this cute little town? Could you just take a day off, please?

Thanks for your help!

Love,
Rebecca

**

The good news is that I had a couple more days on the retreat, but felt no need to write any more letters. So I just spent the time working on my new novel. Stay tuned…

rebeccakuder

Get creative & get things done (ACLU fundraiser)

OFFER EXTENDED!!

Now through February 28, 2025, save money AND support the American Civil Liberties Union when you buy a 3-book bundle of Dear Inner Critic directly from me—here’s how:

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To purchase directly from me: 

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rebeccakuder

Feet don’t fail me now…

from Lynda Barry, One! Hundred! Demons!
from Lynda Barry, One! Hundred! Demons!

Imagine that!  Again I am thinking about self-doubt as fuel for writing. (I blogged about that idea here.)

In that way that interdisciplinary aesthetics happens inside a (my) human body, I was thinking of self-doubt as seemingly insurmountable…music came to me…as Funkadelic used to say, “so high, you can’t get over it…so low, you can’t get under it…” and here I go, dreaming up some funk to play for the dance breaks I’m planning for the advanced creative writing course I’ll teach next term at Antioch College…and thinking about Lynda Barry’s Two Questions (“Is this good?” “Does this suck?”) thinking about all the things we must surmount to be the “keepers of the groove”:

The groove is so mysterious. We’re born with it and we lose it and the world seems to split apart before our eyes into stupid and cool. When we get it back, the world unifies around us, and both stupid and cool fall away.
I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all. —Lynda Barry, One! Hundred! Demons!