Tag Archives: writing

Monday morning writing joke: “The error of her ways.”

There was once a young woman who, in her youth, professed her desire to become a great writer.

When asked to define “Great” she said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”

She now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.

She's well read, if not completely understood.

She’s well read, if not completely understood.

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Monday morning writing joke: “The story of my life”

Three guys are sitting at a bar.

First guy: “Yeah, I make $75,000 a year after taxes.”

Second guy: “What do you do for a living?”

First guy: “I’m a stockbroker. How much do you make?

Second guy: “I should clear $60,000 this year.”

First guy: “What do you do?”

Second guy: “I’m an architect.”

The third guy sits there quietly, staring into his beer, and then the others turn to him.

Second guy: “Hey, how much do you make per year?”

Third guy: “I guess about $13,000.”

First guy: “Oh yeah? What kind of stories do you write?”

[Editor’s note: Last figures I heard was that the average writer makes less than $15,000 a year from his or her writing. Must be something more than money driving people to write. What drives you?]

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Monday morning writing joke: “Heaven or Hell?”

A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.

She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.

“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”

A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.

“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”

“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”

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cARtOONSdAY: “A wELL oF AN iDEA”

Some dips are just beyond the well.

Some dips are just beyond the well.

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cARtOONdAY: tHE gROWTH OF iNSPIRATION

Inspiration can come from almost any dirty little part of your life.

Inspiration can come from almost any dirty little part of your life.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Fiery language”

“Look at this,” one editor said, reading the cover letter of a manuscript. “He claims he puts fire in his writings.”

The second editor read a few pages of the manuscript and told the first one, “He’d do better to put his writings into the fire.”

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Would you buy this novel?

Steve’s a potato and Stephanie’s carrot in a food porn novel entitled The Boiling Stew.

One reviewer said: “This novel is full of heat, with p(l)ot and sub-p(l)ot bubbling over at every turn. The range of emotions ignited in this novel will eave your blood boiling, you mouth watering with anticipation, and your mind consuming the meat of the story as the characters get their just deserts. No glass of water is safe! … Two oven mitts up!”

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Monday morning writing joke: “All ‘choked up”

Sometimes his writing "chokes" me up.

Sometimes his writing “chokes” me up.

I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. I was at a holiday party for writers the other night when I heard someone say of my latest work: “Reading his novel is like eating an artichoke: you have to go through so much to get a little.”

I wasn’t hungry after that.

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Monday (morning) writing joke: “Memoir”

The jackass and the giant were outside chewing the fat. At a time when Christmas decorations were the focus of buyers, they were barely tolerated by the shoppers and passersby.

“Do you ever miss it?” the jackass asked when they were alone.

“Oh, sometimes,” the green giant said. “Particularly now that I’m working on my memoir. Brings back a lot of memories.”

The jackass and the green giant were outside chewing the fat.

The jackass and the green giant were outside chewing the fat.

“I didn’t know you wrote. Didn’t even know you knew how.”

The green giant blushed slightly red on the green. Made him look a little orange in the face. “Taught myself on the sly. Had to. I wanted to prove I wasn’t just another alien here to take their money and take a job away from a local.

“Then my contract came due and since I could now read, I could figure out that was working for beans. So, I demanded more money and they didn’t renew the contract.”

“They fired you?!” the donkey asked, his eyes wide.

“Pretty much.”

“They can’t do that.”

The green giant smiled. “They found somebody who would do it for less.”

“Why, those corporate mules!”

“Something like that.”

The jackass kicked back a hind leg and almost broke a door.

The green giant didn’t say anything more.

“You’re shorter than I expected,” the jackass said. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“A trick of modern film editing.”

“So what’s your memoir going to be called?”

The man smiled. “The memoir of a has bean. How I sold my soul a little green, but got stuck in the brown.”

The jackass nodded. “Catchy. ‘Specially that stuck in the brown part.”

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cARtOONSDAY: aLTERED eGO

Cartoon superhero

Faster than plummeting sales, stronger than a bad review, able to leap a tall stack of rejection slips in a single bound. It’s … it’s … it’s ….

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