WARNING: This is a personal mental exercise in writing. I’m blathering towards a specific point (What that point is though, I’m still blissfully unaware of). Feel free to skip this post if you’re bored or have no interest in my idiocy..
We writers are a fragile bunch. Our egos are fraught with mental roadblocks and psychic demons that prevent us from properly functioning in society at times.
We tend to wrap ourselves in stories like others wrap themselves protectively in blankets on cold winter nights. This gives many the opinion that we are a standoffish and distant bunch disconnected with reality as a whole and who wouldn’t get a joke if it walked up behind us and pantsed us.
This, for the most part, is untrue. While there are the odd group of curmudgeons out there most of us are able to laugh at jokes and carry on normal lives without any of the rest of you ever suspecting we were any different from you.
Our ability to laugh at ourselves is perhaps one of our greatest strengths because it keeps us grounded in reality when a lot of the time we’d rather curl up under our writing desks with our demons and writer’s blocks.
With this in mind I have this self-referential story for you to peruse and read. It’s a stumbling block that many writers (myself included) have tripped on more than once. As a learning tool it’s very dry and boring but very a helpful and pointed example of what not to do when writing. However if you take it as a humourous poke at the silly conceits we writers have, then I feel it becomes a rather amusing poke at our own foibles and failures.