That is the third cliché this page. Are you really a writer?
“Shut up.”
You call that characterization? You’re making that guy as flat as the paper you will ruin printing this out.
“Shut up.”
I thought you were writing a deep introspective novel about loving yourself. When did that become this insipid slog through pathos?
“Shut up.”
This is your first draft? You’re gonna need 10 or 12 more to lipstick this pig.
“Shut up.”
Here’s some friendly advice: look up synonyms for “said.” You’re running that four-letter word into the ground.
“Shut up.”
Is there a market for dreck?
“Shut up.”
You think anybody will ever buy this?
“I am a published writer. You know that.”
But are your works selling well? Are you still able to connect with a reading public?
“Shut up.”
I’m just asking a question. You think you may have lost whatever mojo you may think you had?
“Shut up.”
What? Wrote yourself into a corner? Stop this dreck-fest and start something else that might be good.
“Shut up.”
Have you thought of taking drugs? They say it can open doors to creativity. You can use a door or two. Even a window.
“Shut up.”
Is that guy supposed to be you? Really? Amateur hour has just begun.
“Shut up.”
How can you even imagine that this twist is new? It had gray hair when the Greeks did it. And they did it better.
“Shut up.”
You know, there is a difference between typing and writing. You, are a typist.
“Shut up.”
Oh! Quitting so soon?
“I wrote 2,800 words today.”
Big deal. A real writer would push to nothing less than 3,000.
“Shut up.”
So, same time tomorrow?
“Shut… Yes.”
I’ll be here.
A moment of silence. “I know.”
Written by Gil C Schmidt for Untold Tales.
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