First writer: All my characters have a certain look.
Second writer: And what look is that?
First writer: The one they give me every time I try to get them to do something.
Category Archives: Monday morning writing joke
Monday morning writing joke: “State of mind”
Two fifty-five-year-old authors were sitting together on a dais at a writer’s conference.
The first one looks at the photo and short biography of the third author who is scheduled to join them.
“Wow,” the first author says, “I must be getting old.”
“Why?” the second asks, “because she looks so young in the photo?”
“No. Because she says she’s twenty-seven and describes herself as middle-aged.”
“Yeah,” the second author sighs, “middle age is looking younger and younger to me, too.”
***
Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
–Mark Twain
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Monday morning writing joke: “Look at me”
Q: How many narcissists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: One. He holds it up, and the world revolves around him.
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Monday morning writing joke: “Note”
C, E Flat, and G walk into a bar.
The bartender says, “Sorry, no minors.”
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Monday morning writing joke: “new cliché”
A fellow writer contacted me the other day and said he needed a new cliché.
A new cliché? I asked.
Yes. His editor had told him that it was okay for a character to use it in speech, but the character couldn’t use the one the writer had chosen. His editor said younger readers today wouldn’t know what “When my ship comes in” means. But, the writer said, I can’t think of a newer cliché. Even a made up on that might work. But it has to involve the arrival of something big. Can you help me?
I told him to call me back in a couple of hours and I would see what I could do.
A couple of hours passed and when he called back, I said, I have it.
Good, he said, what is it.
I said, Have your character say, “When my plane arrives on time, I’ll be a rich man.”
That’s about as likely as my ship coming in, the writer said.
Exactly, I said.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Hair Raising”
Finn McCool, the Irish writer, was out drinking to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, when he decided, at the first ribbon of morning light, to return home. He stumbled into the kitchen to find his dog sitting at his chair, eating his morning meal. He cursed the dog and tried shoving him off the chair, to which the dog muttered something, bit him on the arm, and left.
The next day, his arm was so swollen and painful, he couldn’t write, so the Irish writer decided to go drinking again to deaden the pain. The next morning, he stumbled home, his arm throbbing and found a hare sitting at his place eating his breakfast.
“Who are you,” the writer bellowed, weaving his way toward the table. “Who the hell are you?”
The hare ignored him.
The writer drew closer. I said, “Who the hell are you?!”
This time the hare looked at him, dabbed a napkin at his split upper lip and said, “If you must know, I am the hare of the hound that bit you.”
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Monday morning writing joke: “Dog gone.”
Writers and leaves.
Last night I walked into a bar, followed by a dog.
“Hey,” the bartender barks out, “we don’t serve your kind.”
I pointed to the dog and said, “He’s not with me.”
The bartender stared at me. “I ain’t talking about him.”
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Monday morning writing joke: “lamentation on limitations”
What did one writer say to the other when after the 14th time being nominated, he still didn’t win an Oscar?
“I guess my limitation of statues has not yet run out.”
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Lionized”
A hungry African lion came across two men. One was sitting under a tree and reading a book; the other was typing away on his typewriter. The lion pounced on the man reading the book and devoured him. Even the king of the jungle knows that readers digest and writers cramp.
Observation: Maybe that’s why Hemingway was never eaten on safari.The lions were more afraid of his typewriter than his rife.
Inverse observation: Even lions reject writers. Writers just aren’t a lion’s type.
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