Time for my annual, “Nope, you shouldn’t be writing, quit now, run away, go on, shoo” post. This time, in the form of the “25 things” lists that all you crazy cats and kittens seem to love so much.
1. It’s Really Hard
OMG YOU GUYS. Writing? It’s hard. It’s like, you have to sit there? And you have to make stuff up? For a living? And there’s all this… typing involved. You know what’s easier? Being an adult Baby Huey. Diaper-swaddled. Able to just pee where you sit. Your food liquified into a nutrient slurry and fed to you via a tube pushed through the grate of your giant human hamster cage. Okay, I kid, I kid. Writing actually is work. Intellectually and emotionally. You actually have to sit, day in and day out, and trudge through the mire of your own word count. Quit now. Save yourself from pulling a mental hammy.
2. You Probably Don’t Have Time
Writing takes time you do not possess. You’ve got that day job and those kids and, hey, let’s not forget your 37th replay of the entire Mass Effect series. Your time is all buttoned up in a starchy little shirt. Sure, Stephen King carved out his first novel one handwritten line at a time in between moments at his factory job, but if I recall, that didn’t pay off for him. (He should’ve just stayed working at that factory. Uh, hello, have you ever heard of medical benefits, Stevie? A pension? Lunch breaks? Duh.) Besides, eventually you’re just going to die anyway. Time won’t matter and it’s not like they’re gonna let you read your own books in hell. Better to quit now. Free up some time for drinking and masturbation. Er, I mean, “parenting.”
3. You May Have To Write A Whole Lot
Recently it came out that for writers to survive, they might have to buckle down and write more. Well, that’s just a cockamamie doo-doo bomb is what it is. That means writers might need to write — *checks some math, fiddles with an abacus, doodles a bunch of dongs in the margin* — more than 250 words a day?! Whoa. Whoa. Slow your roll, slave driver! I mean, it’s not like writing is fun. It’s an endless Sisyphean dick-punch is what it is. (See, Sisyphus carried an old CRT television up a dusty knoll, and when he got to the top, a faun punched him in the dick and knocked him back down the hill. That’s Greek history, son.) Write more? Eeeesh. Better to complain about it, instead. Or, better still: quit.
4. I Bet You’re Not That Good
I’ve seen your work. C’mon. C’mon. This is just between us, now. It’s not that good, is it? Lots of spelling errors. Commas breeding like ringworm in the petri dish that is a hobo’s crotch. All the structure of an upended bucket of donkey vomit. The last time an agent looked at your work, she sent it back wrapped around a hand grenade. So, you’ll do what so many other mediocre, untested, unwilling-to-work-to-improve writers have done: you self-publish, joining the throngs of the well-below-average with your ill-kerned Microsoft Paint cover and your 50,000 words of medical waste. Why do that to the world? Have mercy!
5. Hell, Maybe You’re Too Good
Alternately, you might be too talented. Your works are literary masterpieces, as if Raymond Carver, James Joyce and Don DeLillo contributed their authorial seed and poured it on the earth where it grew the tree that would one day be slaughtered to provide the paper for your magnum opus. And meanwhile, someone goes and writes porny Twilight fan-fiction and gets a billion-dollar book deal thanks to the tepid BDSM fantasies of housewives everywhere. You’re just too good for this. As you seem unwilling to write the S&M fan-fic version of The Hunger Games for a seven-figure-deal… well. This way to the great egress!
6. Ugh, Learning, Ptoo, Ptoo
“All you have to do to be a writer is read and write,” they said. Which seems true of anything, of course — “All you have to do to be a sculptor is look at sculptures and sculpt some stuff,” or, “All you have to do to be a nuclear physicist is read signs at a nuclear power plant and do a shitload of nuclear physics.” But then you went and read books and blogs and Playboy magazine articles and the backs of countless cereal boxes and then you tried writing and oh snap it turns out you still have more to learn. And learning is yucky. Ew, gross. Dirty, dirty learning. Not fun. Takes effort. Bleah.
7. Finish Him, Fatality
“I’m writing a novel,” you say. And they ask you, “Oh, is this the same one you were writing last year? And the year before that? And the year before that?” And you say, “No, those were different ones. I decided that–” And at this point you make up some excuse about publishing trends or writer’s block or The Muse, but it all adds up to the same thing: you’re not very good at finishing what you start. Your life is littered with the dessicated corpses of countless incomplete manuscripts, characters whose lives are woefully cut short by your +7 Axe of Apathy. You’re so good at not finishing, embrace this skill and quit.
8. Rejection Will Make You A Sad Koala
You will be buried in the heaps and mounds of rejection. And it’s never nice, never fun. Sometimes you’ll get the cold and dispassionate form rejection slips with a list of checkboxes. Sometimes you’ll get the really mean, really personal ones that stab for your heart with a sharpened toothbrush shiv (I once got a rejection slip early in my career from author and then-editor Thomas Monteleone that pretty much… savaged me rectally). Rejection will ruin your day. And, if you do get published, bad reviews will haunt you the same way. Did you know that every time I get a one-star review for Blackbirds, my eczema flairs up? I get all scaly and itchy and then I’m forced to fight Spider-Man as my supervillain persona, “The Rash-o-man.” (My comic book is told from multiple perspectives!) Anyway. Point is, rejections and reviews hurt. Don’t thrust your chin out so it can get punched. Hide in your attic and eat Cheetos, instead.
9. You Don’t Want It Bad Enough
You have to want this writing thing really bad. Sure, the saying goes that “everybody has a novel in them,” but thank fuck most of those people are too lazy to surgically extract said novel. I’ll just leave this one to the wisdom of Ron Swanson: “Never half-ass two things. Whole-ass one thing.”
10. Writing Really Cuts Into Your Internet Addiction
The Internet is like a… delightful hole you fall into, a Wonderland of porn and memes and tweets and porn and hate and cats and porn. I’m always wishing I had more time to just drunkenly fumble around the Internet, feeling its greasy curves and exploring its hidden flesh-knolls, but all this damn writing keeps getting in the way. “Oh, god, if I didn’t have this stupid book to write I’d be tweeting scathing witticisms and scouring the web for free ‘people-dressed-up-as-trees-and-flowers-and-pollinating-one-another’ porn.” (If people who dress up as animals and do it are called “furries,” what are people who dress up like plants? “Leafies?” “Greenos?”) Anyway. Quit now. Free up your time.
11. Writing Isn’t Just Writing, Which Is Super-Bullshit
The title “writer” is the piss-pooriest description of the job I’ve ever heard. Total. False. Advertising. Man, writers have to like… edit, blog, market, learn good business practices, engage in public speaking, train on typewriter repair, cultivate liver constitution, and learn how to select and seduce mates based on the strength of said mate’s health care plan. That’s a bummer. A major bummer. Hell, it’s an ultra-bummer.
12. Rife With Indignities And Disrespect
Admitting to someone you’re a writer is like admitting to them you like to you’re a closet My Little Pony fan, or you’re a self-made eunuch, or you like to have sex with raccoons. Tell someone you’re a writer and she’ll nod, embarrassed for you, and then take a gentle step back so she doesn’t catch whatever cat-shit parasite made you crazy enough to want to be a writer in the first place.
13. Hullo, Mister Fatbody
Writing is a sedentary activity. You sit on your butt all day. The only parts that move are your flitting eyes as they follow the cursor and your fingers as they piston-pound out text. The rest of your body slides inevitably toward atrophy, layers of blubber and gristle slowly wreathing your frame in its salty slugabed deliciousness. You’ll probably get fat and then people will make fun of you and then you’ll die.
14. Back And Eye Problems
In addition to becoming a lumpy word-goblin, you also sit there all day in one chair staring at a freakishly bright square of light and the ant-like words and images that dance across it. Your back will become a quilt of twisted muscle, your eyes like grapes covered in a greasy film. Save your body. Quit now.
15. The Disintegrating Value Of Your Words
The professional pay rate for short fiction is now “a half-of-a-Dorito per word.” The average advance for a novel is a punch to the neck and a nuclear-fuchsia Snuggie. Analysts predict that most self-published works of fiction are trending toward an average price of $0.13 per 120,000-word novel. Which leads to…
16. The Average Salary Is $9000 A Year
The federal poverty level is at $11,170, and the average author annual salary is $9,000 a year. Homeless people earn better salaries. Seriously. If a homeless guy can beg thirty bucks a day, he’ll do better than you. You clearly cannot make a living writing. Studies show that only four writers alive make a living writing, and those jerks have the whole thing sewn up. They’re like the 1%-ers of authors, those dicks. Better to quit now before you find yourself on a ruined mattress under the overpass, eating bedbugs for sustenance.
17. Your Chances Ain’t Good, Hoss
Everybody and their ugly cousin wants to be a writer. You know how many query letter submissions the average agent gets per day? Enough to crush the skull of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. (In fact, that’s how the dinosaurs went extinct: they all wanted to be writers and starved to death. The meteors were just a cruel afterthought by an unmerciful god.) The chances of your work ever being seen — by an agent, then by a publisher, then by an audience — are about as good as the chances of you giving birth to a zebra riding a jet-ski. Which, admittedly, I have seen a few times. And it isn’t pretty. Oh, and don’t forget about…
18. The Septic Tide Of Self-Publishing
Now everybody and their ugly cousin can be writers! All it takes is a hasty lack of afterthought and a shameless willingness to click a PUBLISH button on the Internet. Abracadabra, your poorly-cobbled-together word-abortion is now available for anybody who cares to see it! Am I saying that good authors don’t self-publish? Hell no! Many great authors have self-published. Oh, but here’s the rub: discoverability on the Internet sucks. Trying to discover a new author on the Amazon or B&N marketplaces is about as effective as searching an above-ground pool full of dirty adult diapers for a half-eaten Snickers bar. Your work is just one more diaper on the pile. Or one more candy bar lost beneath the waste.
19. Gatekeepers? More Like Hatekeepers, Am I Right?
You know who’s preventing you from getting published? A buncha jerks. Editors and agents and publishers — all grumpy bouncers at the door of this SUPER-ELITE WRITER’S CLUB and any time you try to come on through they Taser you in the face and laugh as you flounder around in the gutter for an hour. The system is a Rube Goldberg machine that powers itself on your shame. Don’t let the bullies win. Better instead to take a nap and forget the whole thing.
20. Have You Been To A Bookstore Recently?
The bookpocalypse is upon us. All Barnes & Noble sells anymore is coffee and board games, except in the back where you can find a couple Franzen novels and 72 copies of a 1989 Pontiac Grand Am user manual. Indie bookstores appear haunted by the damned — it’s all trauma-bombed eyes and trembling gray shades, each of them willing to show you on the doll where Amazon touched them. I drove by a bookstore the other day and it was filled with feral cats. Caution. Cuidado. Verboten.
21. Publishing Is Now One Big-Ass City-Stomping Kaiju Battle
The Big Six publishers have formed into some kind of drunken papier mache Voltron in order to fight the tentacled galactic e-beast known as Amazon, and all us little writers are getting tromped by their stompy feet. Sure, try to show the world your novel: you’ll get lasered in the face. Better to hide in a bunker somewhere, wait out this monster battle. Your wordsmithy will just get you killed.
22. When The Great EMP Comes, All Our E-Books Will Be Destroyed
Print books are being hunted in the streets like stray dogs. E-books will soon be all books, but then eventually China’s going to attack us with an elecromagnetic pulse or Russia will invent an ion cannon like from Star Wars and then all of our books will evaporate in the data-blast. All your hard work will be lost — ephemeral information cinders on the wind. Why even try?
23. And If Not, The Future Will Be All Writer-Bots Anyway
It’s not going to be long before spam-bots figure out how to produce new content. The next wave of self-published books will be written — sorry, “written” — by a hive-mind colony of self-aware spam-bots. They’ll have titles like “The Girl Who Kicked Over The Cialis Machine” or “Ugg Boots Informational Article Post” or “Ituqxufssjcmfnjoet The Real Estate Computer Repair Warrior.” Don’t get in the spam-bots’ way.
24. You Just Don’t Like It Very Much
I don’t think you like writing very much. Mostly you just complain. Boo-hoo pee-pee-pants sobby-face wah-wah existential turmoil. Writing is hard, publishing is mean, my characters won’t listen to me, blah blah blah. I don’t get the sense you really enjoy this thing, so why don’t you take a load off? It’s not like the pay-off from writing is huge. If it’s just an endless gauntlet of miseries, maybe go find something else to do. I’m sure the nearest bank is hiring. Or, as we’ve discussed, hobos do pretty well for themselves. And hoboing is an unbridled delight! Ask any hobo and he’ll say, “At least I’m not a writer.”
25. Because Some Asshole On The Internet Said So
If you’re willing to listen to me, and my words have given you pause, then you really should quit writing. And there’s no shame in that. Most folks who want to do this thing honestly never will — and maybe it’s best to maximize your opportunity and find your bliss somewhere else. But, if you’re reading all this and all you feel is the repeated urge to come find my house and flat-punch me in the trachea, good for you. If your response is to kick and hiss and spit and assert your writerly rights and then push past me so you can plant your pooper down in the chair to write your aforementioned pooper clean off, then to that I give you a high-five, a chest-bump, and a sloppy open-mouthed kiss (here, have my gum). Because to want to do this thing, you need that kind of fuck you, I’mma do it anyway attitude. And the last thing you need to be doing is listening to some Internet Asshole telling you to give up. Shut up. Go write. Be awesome.
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Sean Riley says:
#7 was what got me in the end: I simply can’t sustain interest in a single work for long enough to write a novel. Short stories, I adore writing, and will never stop doing them. And of course I write other stuff like RPG campaigns, etc. But it’s enough for me to know I’m a taddler, half-in at best. As Chuck’s put it a few times: Maximize your happiness. I did, and feel better for it.
May 22, 2012 — 12:50 AM
Robert Brown says:
Give up….
May 22, 2012 — 1:07 AM
CJayBee says:
I have to disagree with #8 RE: Rejection Will Make You a Sad Koala.
Yes. A negative rectal stimulation experience from a publisher will cause anguish, bloody stools, incessant itching and (I may be quoting you) a vibrating taint — but at least there is some stimulation! The worst is when you create something which is NOT SHIT and you get nothing in return. No polite refusal. Not a scathingly nasty retort about my infantile efforts. Just the VOID.
Nada. Zip. Zilch. That bugs hard. I’m not looking for a reason for refusal; just a response.
I’ve had a couple of GREAT publishers usher my work onto to the auction block of reader opinion in the past 3 years since I’ve been “seriously” writing and it rules so I know some of the drivel I put to digital paper can sell. I don’t need a pat on the ass – I got over that reward system playing high school football. But I say even a nasty response is better than silence.
At least somebody has (ostensibly) read what you wrote.
EOR (End of Rant)
May 22, 2012 — 1:18 AM
Stan R. Mitchell says:
Beautiful. Very nicely done!
May 22, 2012 — 1:20 AM
Vero says:
Am I the only one who wants to see that rejection from Monteleone? Or maybe a list of 25 weirdest rejections?
May 22, 2012 — 1:41 AM
AB Singer says:
Writing is fun.
May 22, 2012 — 1:41 AM
AB Singer says:
… which means you can have my mouse, Mr. Wendig, when you take it from my cold, dead hand.
May 22, 2012 — 6:50 AM
tara tyler says:
17 is my fave, always wondered why they went extinct! pea brained writing! of course!
May 22, 2012 — 8:39 AM
Anna says:
Many of these are reasons I am not a novelist. But I am still a writer, both in my day job (which is writing that is often not much fun, but which involves a high degree of wordsmithery) and in my free time, where I write short stories and blog posts and who gives a shit if that stuff sucks because writing it is fun and I get better at it from doing it. Maybe someday I’ll have an idea for a novel, but until then, writing is still fun, so there.
While I know your main manifesto is for novelists, it’s pretty applicable to anyone who pulls words out of the ether and wrangles them, like some kind of grammatical gaucho, into something intelligible. Even us wee hobbyists.
May 22, 2012 — 8:43 AM
Anninyn says:
I definitely struggle with the finishing things game. I let my own self doubt overwhelm me at around 20,000 words and I just stop.
But, this article made me feel a hot, burning rage and a ‘I’ll show you, Wendig, you DICK and by the way I saw your book in the bookstore today and I DIDN’T BUY IT I BOUGHT The Haunting at Hill House instead so FUCK YOU and I’m gonna PROVE YOU WRONG’ so… congrats? And thanks? I think?
May 22, 2012 — 8:51 AM
Christopher Meyer says:
Reading and writing!? This is America! We don’t do that stuff ’round here! That’s for communists!
Writing can be hard, and it’s harder when you see sales level off at ZERO, but writing is enjoyable. I get a sort of Zen feeling from it.
So I shall keep writing, good sir! So pbbbbt!
May 22, 2012 — 8:52 AM
Barry Napier says:
Wow.
“…about as effective as searching an above-ground pool full of dirty adult diapers for a half-eaten Snickers bar.”
Poetry right there. I shed a tear.
May 22, 2012 — 9:09 AM
terribleminds says:
Anninyn:
Telling me you didn’t buy my novel is not the best way to say “thanks,” but I am of course glad you enjoyed the post. I think?
— c.
May 22, 2012 — 9:20 AM
Anninyn says:
I did, and to be fair the only reason I didn’t is cause it’s on NEXT months buying list. I have to be strict how many I buy, or I’d end up buying ninety books a month (the only way to stay ahead of myself when reading)
May 22, 2012 — 9:29 AM
terribleminds says:
@Anninyn —
Well, see, you just shoulda said that. 😉
– c.
May 22, 2012 — 9:30 AM
Anninyn says:
Yes, but then how would the whole world know I don’t know how to talk to people? I’d prefer it if you were all robots then I’d find it less awkward.
May 22, 2012 — 9:34 AM
terribleminds says:
@Anninyn —
We are all robots.
I didn’t know you were a meat-suit.
ERADICATE.
— c.
May 22, 2012 — 9:39 AM
darthqu3 says:
Man I need this. Thanks bro. Thanks for building this site. Its nice to knw that there is a some form of literary based bastion of emotional support and mental motivations. You rock and may God bless you in all that you do.
May 22, 2012 — 9:38 AM
UrsulaV says:
Every now and then, usually through guilt or offers of free plane fare, they manage to corral me into a room with bright-eyed college students who ask for advice for struggling writers (or sometimes artists) and I always say “If there is anything else on earth that you can do and be happy, do that instead.”
This often shocks them. Inevitably, I see the professor snickering in the background.
May 22, 2012 — 9:57 AM
AmandaKay says:
I quit writing regularly and twice a day when I’m editing my verbal splat that masquerades as prose.
The real question is how to kick the habit for good.
(-=
[reluctantly heading back to edit/rewrite my novella yet again]
May 22, 2012 — 10:27 AM
Paul Philip Carter says:
Best ever. Really, I mean it… this time.
May 22, 2012 — 10:31 AM
Ed Varga says:
dude – you are the mutha effing writing messiah!
May 22, 2012 — 10:49 AM
Laura Hughes (@MittensMorgul) says:
At least I got #11 and #14 sewn up. I married my husband 15 years ago for his health insurance. I injured my knee, was uninsured, and he wanted to take me to the hospital. I told him I’d be fine, and it wasn’t worth going to the poor house over. He asked me to marry him so I wouldn’t have to suffer like that next time I hurt myself (which is frequently, thanks to the bad knees).
He’s also got great vision care, as attested to by the fact that my new glasses let me see all the things again. The chiropractic is kinda lacking, but I’ve got a comfy chair, and a heating pad, and a jar of Tiger Balm.
May 22, 2012 — 10:59 AM
The Troubled Scribe says:
Did you say there is porn on the internet ?
May 22, 2012 — 11:00 AM
Wood says:
Every single word you said is true and I agree.
Apart from the part about giving up. I got through them all, and nodded, and said, yes, all true.
But I do want it. I can’t do anything else. I have actually tried. If I believed in callings, I’d call it that.
Also, I’m objectively shit-hot and have validation and everything so fuck it, I’m still writing.
May 22, 2012 — 11:06 AM
Corinne says:
I get all scaly and itchy and then I’m forced to fight Spider-Man as my supervillain persona, “The Rash-o-man.” (My comic book is told from multiple perspectives!)
Congratulations on the internet you just won! It’s too bad, pursuant to #10, that you won’t have the chance to enjoy its moist, leafy dark corners. Too bad for you, but neat for the rest of us, as the things you’ll be doing instead are ones I can’t wait to read.
May 22, 2012 — 11:15 AM
Lynn says:
As always, hilarious and painfully true. Especially #5. And damn you for putting the idea of a porny BDSM version of Hunger Games out there. Because you know HBO will be all over that project now.
May 22, 2012 — 11:57 AM
Jenna says:
Learning to finish is one of the hardest things I had to learn about writing. Starting is easy–starting is the fun part. You have a shiny new toy, a whole new playground to explore, a new kitten to play with, and whatever other metaphor works for you. And then the story becomes a slog and a burden, and eventually you have to either give up or remind yourself why you fell in love with this idea in the first place.
Sometimes the best thing about finishing is that you never have to look at the damn story again. (Until editing time. But hopefully there’s enough of a break for the spark to come back.)
May 22, 2012 — 12:09 PM
Michelle S. says:
“Because to want to do this thing, you need that kind of fuck you, I’mma do it anyway attitude.”
Accurate.
May 22, 2012 — 12:12 PM
Samuel says:
The drunken papier-mache Voltron imagery is the sort of excellence and humor that makes terribleminds a unique place in the universe, and one in which I want to live.
I will persist as a writer, if for no other reason to annoy the shit out of my family and otherwise stick it to the man.
Plus I have things to say. Fight the power, and finish your shit.
don’t just give up like sissy-girl.
Express yourself fully, damn the consequences.
May 22, 2012 — 12:31 PM
Marlan says:
You had me at “hobo crotch.”
May 22, 2012 — 1:27 PM
Joe Selby says:
There’s a panhandler near my office in Boston. He takes the train in, sits on a low wall along the sidewalk, and holds out a cup. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He listens to his iPod all day, has nice clothing, and bright white shoes. He also makes a ton of money every day. Doesn’t say a word, and I’m pretty sure he makes more than I do. I hate that guy.
May 22, 2012 — 1:43 PM
R.C. Murphy says:
Dude, keep your gum. I’m gonna go over here and write my ass off, because hey, who doesn’t like koalas? Oh, they’re sad? Even Fucking Better. Goth koalas FTW!
May 22, 2012 — 3:50 PM
James R. Tuck says:
That’s it. I’m done.
May 22, 2012 — 3:59 PM
Timothy John Whitcher says:
The only reason you should write is because you enjoy it. The rest is just icing on an already satisfying cake.
Many (most) good writers never truly make a living off it, and many (most) don’t care.
As far as self-publishing, why not go for it? Listen to your critics, pay an editor, have your work formatted properly and always provide a sample of your writing. As far as being “found” on Amazon, I go on Amazon at least once a week and scroll through the new releases. If something piques my interest, I’ll read the first few pages. That’s usually all it takes to verify if it’s well written, or at least grammatically correct. I’m sure there are thousands of Kindle owners who do the same. I’ve paid up to $4.99 for short story collections that rival many from the Big Six publishers.
Guess I’ve already come to terms with most of the “25,” and can’t be discouraged!
May 22, 2012 — 4:55 PM
LisaAnn says:
I have to agree with # 18. For every self-published book that should be #1 with every pub house, there are 1000 that suck ass and have no business being called books. Self publishing is chipping away at the quality of “the book” whether it means to or not.
May 22, 2012 — 5:18 PM
Yenny Coll says:
I was ready to send some hate email by the time I reached #3, but I’m glad I read it all the way through. Very funny, and all very true; somewhat inspiring too. 🙂 Thanks for this!
May 22, 2012 — 7:39 PM
Phronk says:
I was all “fuck you you’re wrong” until #10, then I was all “fuck you you’re right and also the cause of it.”
Since I read it during one of my “how am I suddenly reading Twitter instead of my novel?” Internet breaks.
It also hurt me as a Leafy.
May 22, 2012 — 9:27 PM
Shy Amy says:
After reading this today I got another rejection. I feel like I am supposed to be wretchedly depressed but oddly enough I’m not at all. I’m going back to my WIP energized and give my keyboard a workout. Even if I never get published, I don’t think I CAN quit writing. Don’t know how. It’s a part of who I am. Thanks Chuck. Love your work =-)
May 22, 2012 — 10:40 PM
dreamerinchains says:
That was a cleverly written diatribe. I enjoyed it. But, my reaction was totally and completely “fuck you, I’m going to keep doing it ANYWAY.”
So, uh, I guess you won? Or something? I have no idea.
The stuff I’m writing is gonna be awesome, though.
May 23, 2012 — 4:19 AM
darthque says:
ummm…is my gravatar working? 😀
May 23, 2012 — 6:59 AM
gary pettigrew says:
Ok. I quit. … No wait…its a trick. Dammit I almost fell for it.
*does this count against my word count for today?
May 23, 2012 — 9:50 AM
Sam X says:
I was gonna read this article, but then I decided to be awesome and write.
May 23, 2012 — 10:55 AM
David Purse says:
I love this post! Especially the Finish Him, Fatality! And the thing about bookstores. And self publishing. And not being good enough. But have I been put off? Hell no. Instead, I’ve been fired up to want it even more than ever.
May 23, 2012 — 5:11 PM
Darthqu3 says:
i love this post, and i love the comments that came with it. -sigh- back to writing, and hopefully a turkey sandwich with dijon mustard, a chocolate chip cliff bar and a diet root beer to wash it down. All because of my gosh darn goal of trying to write 2K words a day. I NEED COMFORT FOOD! Sorry. :S
May 23, 2012 — 10:13 PM
Chippy says:
*looks up how much it will cost to get to Chuck’s house to flat-punch him in the trachea*
It’s too expensive – I am but a poor writer!
I will just have to mentally flat-punch you and continue on my writerly way.
May 24, 2012 — 10:12 AM