Home > in which I write about authors as people > How Being a Writer is Sometimes like Being a Serial Killer

How Being a Writer is Sometimes like Being a Serial Killer

Writers are an odd bunch. We inhale our coffee and our tea, sometimes without tasting it. We drink, share drink recipes, and talk about that great new wine we discovered. We have superstitions. We haunt coffee shops. You can always bribe us with food. Or a pony. Or a unicorn. Or better yet: a pony that IS a unicorn.

Where was I? Right. Being a writer is sometimes like being a serial killer, except without the professional butcher’s smock.

1. We talk to ourselves. A lot.
2. We hear voices. These voices tell us to do things. We argue with them.
3. We live with people who aren’t real. We’re very attached to them.
4. We are smart, but can be socially awkward.
5. If the writing doesn’t go as planned, setting the work-in-progress aflame always seems like a good idea.
6. Nothing is 9 to 5. Strange hours abound. There’s a strong possibility that you will discover a writer scribbling notes on bar napkins at 3 am.
7. We’re moody as hell. You may discover us making lemon cake at noon, because the day requires cake. Or croissants. Or pasta. Whatever it is, just go with it.
8. You never know what might set us off. Was someone just rude to the waiter? Inspiration for a character. Ran into an old college crush? Inspiration. Was winked at by the ice cream man? Creepy inspiration.
9. Nothing is ever ordinary. The smallest thing can be the most profound. And we notice things that most people would only ever glance at.
10. We keep our trophies. Clippings. Good reviews. Pieces we are especially proud of. Somewhere, there’s a folder or a box.

There may not be blood on our shirts, but there’s ink on our fingers. We’ve suffered hand cramps and eye strain. If you look closely enough, you can probably pick one of us out of the crowd. But try not to interrupt us if we’re furiously typing. We (I’m using the royal Writer We, here) may occasionally forget ourselves and bite.

  1. May 31, 2012 at 8:51 am

    Excellent post…thank goodness we writers don’t have to deal with real life blood and gore…just the blood and gore in our minds…

    • May 31, 2012 at 1:53 pm

      Thank you! And yes, far too messy!

  2. May 31, 2012 at 9:10 am

    The Starbucks douchebag probably doesn’t realize how close he came to wearing cement shoes.

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