Alerted by the Ever Fabulous Joss Whedon ™, who wrote an excellent rebuttal, I went over to nytimes.com to read an article about the WGA strike. I was amused to learn that because writers may not toil in greasy overalls or work in a service industry (at least in the most restrictive sense of the term) we are, as a class, people who drink designer water, wear arty glasses (?) and sip lattes. In the world of the New York Times it seems that this is what I, as a writer, am supposed to look like:
Oddly, not so much. Most writers I know are more like something out of Barton Fink:
Except maybe without the snazzy 40’s clothes and the next door neighbor who’s the Devil. Let’s face it: writers have an image problem. Raise hands, Brains: who here has never had someone say some variation on the following to them:
- Yeah, I have an idea for a book. We could write it together and split the money.
- We really like you, we’d like to hire you, but since you’re a writer you’re likely to quit the minute your book hits the bestseller lists, and we can’t afford that.
- I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but I never had the time.
- It must be so nice not to have to work for a living.