My friends are nice friends. They love me and tell me that I am talented and they go to my readings and proofread my atrocious grammar and spelling. They are there for me when I need to quit my job, again and again. They validate my unjustifiable laziness and unsuccessfulness. They do this for me because I encourage it and I am entertainingly embarrassing at parties.
Little do they know that I’m a whining, way less than prolific, self-righteous, know-it-all with a Goddess-complex (maybe they do know this and wonder why I keep coming around).
The truth is, writers are jerks. You shouldn’t hang out with us and here’s why:
We are seriously dedicating our lives to the proposition that another person would want to listen to us go on about something for hundreds and hundreds of pages. Once, we have written said pages, we expect that the world will finally, finally, be handed to us on a silver platter.
It’s impossible to get a word in edgewise with a writer and even when you do, you’re faced with the opinion of a person who thinks they know everything and they will let you know that in the most condescending way possible.
Writers will exploit your personal tragedies for their own monetary gains. Remember that breakup you had? That’s scene three of my Radio Drama.
We will stop listening to you and discount everything you’ve ever said or ever will say based on conflicting literary preferences.
It’s super annoying to be consistently psychoanalyzed by someone who is not a psychiatrist – a person who just spends a lot of time jumping to conclusions about things that he/she has decided are truths based on internal, self-serving, logic.
We always need a job.
But mostly, because we need you a whole lot more than you need us.
My advice to you is to un-friend all of your writers. They probably deserve it. Plus, maybe then they’ll have a real cross to bear and will use the emotional momentum to actually put pen to paper instead of blogging all the time.