5 Fun Tips to be a More Writerly Writer

Real writers use a quill and wear glasses. Then they take pictures of them.

So, you think you’re a writer do you? I suppose you sit quietly at your desk, diligently knocking out 2,000 words a day, scouring the internet for tips to improve your prose? Pah! That’s not the way of the true writer. There are writers, and then there are writerly writers. Allow me to enlighten you…

1) Carry a notebook.

It should be leather-bound – the more expensive, the better. For maximum effect, wait until a friend is mid-way through a sentence, then whip it out and start making notes, laughing quietly to yourself. Then refuse to let them see, claiming that they wouldn’t understand.

2) Own at least 4 different colours of pen.

These are for editing. Red can be used to draw attention to plot inconsistencies. Green is for additions and amendments to the prose itself. Blue should draw attention to the sections where you deliberately missed out whole paragraphs to come back to later, then forgot about. Black has no special significance – it’s just black.

3) Work in the local cafe.

There is absolutely no point in being a writer unless everyone knows about it, so find a prominent public place and write there. Remember to invest in an oversized laptop with a particularly noisy keyboard, thump the table in consternation at the end of each sentence, and stare absent-mindedly at other patrons to freak them out. This is how most writers attract the attention of agents.

4) Wear a bow tie.

Another top tip to let everyone know you’re a writer is to wear a bow tie. Only writers wear bow ties – anyone wearing a bow tie who is not a writer is an impostor, and must have their bow tie confiscated on the spot. It is legal to do this. If you are uncomfortable wearing a bow tie in public, start slowly with a cravat and work your way up.

5) Get yourself all worked up.

The natural-born writer can only be truly creative when pacing up and down and ranting loudly to themselves, ideally under the heavy influence of coffee or alcohol – or both. Try to remember to write down some of the things you rant about for later use. Combine this with strategy 3 for maximum writer points. Top score!

Are you a writerly writer, or merely a writer? How many bow ties do you own? Click ‘comments’ below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

Image © Simon Howden

I Did It All For Science

 

Image © NASA

As regular readers may have noticed, it’s been a little while since my last post. The reason for this is simple – I have absolutely nothing to write about.

Even now this remains the case, making this post an experimental attempt to be both entertaining and informative, whilst simultaneously saying almost nothing at all. By reading, you are implicitly offering yourself up as a participant in this experiment – please ram the electrodes forcibly into your head when the red light flashes.

Are you sitting comfortably? No? Well of course you’re not – I’ve strapped you down and inserted an unnecessarily bulbous probe into your startled rectum. All in the name of science. In any case, we’ll begin with the informative section.

As you may be aware, NASA’s Kepler telescope project has recently announced the discovery of 54 Earth-like planets, far beyond the reaches of our solar system. This is incredibly exciting, and a great achievement, but it will be some time yet before they are able to establish whether any of these planets support life, let alone sentient species with the power of language.

This means that, of the 55 Earth-like planets now known to science (including Earth, which is about as Earth-like as you can get), the total known to have developed a word for the strange taste of a stainless-steel spoon currently stands at zero. I find this incredibly disappointing.

After all, scientists have finally conceded that noodles and pasties have a taste that is neither sweet, sour, bitter nor salt, and declared that this flavour shall henceforth be known as ‘umami’. I defy you to go to the kitchen, lick your cutlery with every inch of your tongue, and tell me that a word exists which accurately describes the flavour you’re experiencing. Only an advanced, sentient species, with millennia of spoon-licking under their belts, can help us now. NASA’s search continues.

Right, that’s it - I think I’ve provided quite enough value for money for one post. The entertaining bit is cancelled. Please remove the soiled scientific apparatus from your tender orifices, and form an orderly queue for the complimentary lollipops.

Are you an alien from a distant world? Do you lick spoons? What about a fish-slice? No? In that case, I won’t bother suggesting that you leave a comment below. And you certainly won’t be interested in e-mailing pithytitle@live.co.uk