WRITER: Comedy comes from pain.
AGENT: Then this meeting is hilarious.
Filed under 2020, Monday morning writing joke
There once was writer from Chicago,
Who fancied himself a hero in Key Largo.
So, he packed up his crap,
But misread his map,
And is living near zero in Fargo.
There once was a writer of horror
Who wrote about mean, evil flora.
And there once was a fly
That landed nearby
And ate him so he could write no more-ah.
There once was a writer of satire,
Who feared his profession would soon expire.
No matter what he would write
Reality very soon made it trite,
Or worse, make it something to desire.
There once was a writer from NASA
Who knew if aliens could blast ya.
He wrote his memoir
Called, Life from Afar.
His agent said, “The movies have passed ya.”
Filed under 2020, Monday morning writing joke, NASA, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was a writer from Manhattan
Who wrote all his novels in Latin.
A dead language, he said,
Makes them appear well read.
But for his wallet it did nothing to fatten.
Filed under 2020, Monday morning writing joke
A dog, a doctor, and writer arrive outside heaven. The dog is let in because of its companionship. The doctor is let in because of her work saving lives. The writer is sent to purgatory to do another draft.
Filed under 2020, Monday morning writing joke
The once was a writer of mystery /
Who had a sordid and checkered history. /
They say in another town /
She let her husband drown /
Because his reviews of her writing were blistery.
There once a writer from Cancun
Who wrote about things way too soon.
It was all in future tense
And made very little sense.
Especially about the spaceman riding a bassoon.
There once was a writer from Schenectady
Whose writing was full of complexity
He plots were convoluted.
His characters quite putrid.
He was left all alone intellectually.
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