"Oh me, oh my!" said the editor.
"Correcting this is quite the chore.
Is this the best that you can muster?
This story's totally lackluster.
The writing is so uninspired;
Just reading through it makes me tired.
It's my job to inform you that
Your characters are cardboard-flat.
Their dialogue is somewhat static,
Their interaction, problematic.
And can't you tell this phrase is wrong?
It's hackneyed as a country song.
The verbs you've used are lacking action;
Your adjectives are pure distraction.
Descriptions here are not poetic;
I'd say that they're downright pathetic.
Your plot line wanders round and round.
No resolution can be found.
Your thoughts are not original.
I see no spark of life at all.
I'm trying here to be polite,
But I insist that you rewrite.
In fact, I have a better plan:
Throw this away. Begin again."
. . . . .
For criticism that's dispersed,
My inner editor's the worst.
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