Q.: What did one English vampire writer say to another English vampire writer?
A.: “All this bloody writing is sucking the life out of me.”
Tag Archives: joke
Monday morning writing joke: “eaten”
Q. If a writer were turned into a zombie, whose brains would he eat first?
A. His critics’.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “taxing”
Willard the Writer was such a gullible scribe; he actually believed syntax was a tax he had to pay each year he was an unpublished writer.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Turnaround”
I once knew a writer addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but then she turned herself around. That’s what it’s all about.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Period piece”
First author looking at a novel by a third author, turns to the second author and asks: “Did you read this latest novel? She says it’s a period piece.”
Second author grimaces. “Yes. It. Is. And. I. Read. Every. Period. In. The. Piece.”
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Monday morning writing joke: “habit”
Three women walk in and sit down at the bar. Two are in street clothes, modest attire. The third is in nun’s clothing.
Bartender asks them what they are having.
The two in street clothes say, “Boilermakers.”
The nun says, “Water.”
After the third round of drinks, when the other two women start getting loud and sloppy, the bartender asks the nun why she is hanging out with these two lushes.
“They are nuns, too,” she says calmly, “They have just gotten out of the habit.”
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “War is….”
A young Ambrose Bierce
Ambrose Bierce, author of The Devil’s Dictionary (1842-1913):
“War is God’s way of teaching Americans geography.”
Updated corollary: I guess since Americans score poor on world geography, we haven’t had enough of them lately.
Final conclusion: Drones anyone?
Monday morning writing joke: “Willing Suspension”
Q. What is the difference between Santa Claus and a work of fiction?
A. Nothing. Both offer rewards for a willing suspension of disbelief.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Dying to tell you”
At the party last night, I accidentally drank a bottle of food coloring. The doctor says I’ll be fine, but I feel like I’ve dyed a little on the inside.
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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Worn out”
Who gives a sock?
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. The other day, a critic said of my latest work: “His story is as loud and useless as my worn-out socks.”
I wrote the critic and asked him how can worn out socks be loud?
He wrote me back saying he was taking poetic license.
I wrote back asking why he buys his socks from a poet? I must have said something adverse, because I haven’t heard back from him. But he did send me a bill for four pairs of socks.
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