How Not to Be a Writer


  1. Never write. Anything. Ever. But if you do happen to break this first and most integral rule, make sure that you at least follow the next four without fail.
  2. Remember that whatever you write absolutely must be perfect. And brilliant. And stunningly original. It must make everyone who even glimpses the title weep over the emotional resonance of it. It also must make you millions, and very, VERY famous.
  3. Care, deeply and desperately, about what every single person in the world thinks about you and your writing. It is essential to your self-worth.
  4. Never try to be published. That’s so gauche. You must be discovered by accident, preferably by someone stumbling upon one of your throwaway, scribbled poems on a paper napkin. No name, of course, but they were so enchanted by your unusual way with words that they spent six months and a small fortune tracking you down.
  5. Give in to fear. Fear knows best. And whatever you do, never ever try anything new, for God’s sake.
  6. And play it again, kids, once more with feeling: the Golden Rule of How to Not be a Writer is never ever write. 
How Not to Be a Writer