There are a lot of ideas out there about how a person should become a writer: you can get an MFA or dive into the world of NYC publishing or even light out on the road to suck the very marrow from the bones of life… These are all wrong. Why would you do any of that when you have the delightfully exhaustive single-panel genius of Wikihow’s “How to write” pages?
We all know that the first step for any would-be writer is to stare at yourself in a full-length mirror for at least three hours every morning before work, questioning every decision you’ve ever made, struggling to get your smile to reach the eyes.
It’s very important that you circle every day you fail to write, so that you can move on with your life by the time fall comes around.
Here’s a picture of two teen boys rocking some warehouse pastels. Aka, your writing group.
Come up with a really great idea for a fantastical satire of 18th-century empire. Realize it’s been done. Quit.
Just copy someone else’s book from the library. No one will notice.
You know what you need? You need to get away from that desk, get some fresh air, feel the sun on your face, hear the birds singing, slip down into a crevasse, get your arm stuck, wait 127 hours until your arm grows numb, saw it off, survive, write a book about it, and then have James Franco play you in the movie.
Books about people hunting other people will never ever go out of style.
Whatever you fucking do, do NOT show your writing to this man.
Heyyyyy. Maybe you’ve been working a little too hard, huh? Why don’t you go ahead and just put that book down…
Just have a fucking kid already so you’ll have a good excuse for the ongoing failure to finish your dystopic reimagining of Lonesome Dove.
Fuck you, Wikihow, and your stupid fucking anti-semicolon bias. Nonsense.