“You need to make her suffer.”
As I spoke these words to a friend today, I caught the horrified glance of an older man sitting at the next table. No, I wanted to tell him, I’m not a professional hit girl. I’m an author.
Today was my monthly critique meeting at Wildflower Bakery (highly recommend the new chicken pomegrante salad, by the way), and I was offering my usual variety of advice.
Kill him off. You’re not in enough trouble. Can’t you drive her closer to despair?