by Rachel Brady
First Draft, our road has never been easy
You wear me down and make me queasy
I yearn for you, pursue you still
You never call when you say you will
We agreed on a year, you showed up in two
What the hell is wrong with you?
Plot holes, time warps, misspellings, grammar
Flat dialogue, word choice, scenes that ramble
Implausible twists, sagging middle
Cannot believe I wrote this drivel
Second Draft's handsome, Third Draft is smooth
Final Draft's sexy and confident too
You are a Two. Those guys are a Ten.
Why can't you just be more like them?
Instead you are stubborn, messy, and crude
Always late and in a mood
You don't comb your hair, your prose does not flatter
And your word count? My God. Yes. Size does matter.
You drive me to drink and complain all the time
Since the day we first met, it's been whine whine whine
Yet I tolerate you, inconsiderate ass
Because you clean up nice on the second pass.