Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Writers Gone Stupid

This is going to be one of my rants, so if you don't want to read it, CLICK AWAY NOW!

See? That was a simple choice, wasn't it? Click away. Don't click away.

So why is it that I get phone calls, e-mails, Facebook comments, etc., from writers who can't make a simple fucking choice?

Even before the Kindle and Amazon turned the publishing industry into the Wild West, writers had some choices. Submit to this editor. Don't submit to that editor. Write romance. Don't write romance. It's really not that hard.

My favorite though is when they ask me for advice and I tell them not to stand in the middle of the freeway at night. Yet, they do it anyway.

So why do so many writers stand in the middle of the freeway at night, stare at the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck, and not move the hell out of the way? I really can't answer that. That's the point I truly lose my faith in my gods and believe Darwin and the atheists were right all along.

These writers, still standing in the middle of the freeway, are stupid enought to ask me what they should do. I shake my head and say, "Die in horrible accident. Don't die in horrible accident. Your choice."

And invariably when I present the choice to the writer that way, he/she says, "What if I've fallen out of my wheelchair and I can't get out of the way?"

If that's your follow-up, I swear to Anubis, I will look at you like you lost your last marble, and I will say, "Wheelchair or not, why the fuck are you stupid enough to be in the middle of oncoming traffic to begin with?"


  1. According to tradition, we're supposed to get smarter as we get older. I don't buy that but, speaking for myself, I HAVE learned to duck...:)

  2. My first thought upon reading this was that you'd heard about a particular kerfuffle going on in the small romance press end of the industry. :P Definitely plenty of people picnicking in the middle of the freeway there.



  3. I just had a very bad 48 hours of people allegedly wanting advice or asking what I was doing, only to tell me I was wrong. Or just wanting stuff period, that they could have done themselves. All of it in whiney passive-aggressive tones.