Writing With Flatulence!
How's that for a title with some flair ...and maybe a bit of an odor too?!! Yeah! You can put that one in your Search Engine and... click it!
If you're looking for a well written and informative article by a knowledgeable source you better hit the search button again!
I'm only fraudulently masquerading as a writer. I also admit I have made more money mowing lawns than I have ever made writing. So if you want to put down your blog and grab the weed-eater, I can help you. If I haven't discouraged you yet, then I feel I should warn you. There's a certain amount of negative stigma attached to those self-professing writers whenever encountered... nervous smiles, odd looks, tugging uncomfortably at their shirt collar... while nervously scanning for an exit. And I haven't even brought up that dreadful topic, the dreaded writers block which I equate with erectile dysfunction of the cerebrum, Broca's Area to be precise.
It's what I do
I'm not really a writer but I pretend to be one on the Internet. I spend a lot of time writing but I don't seem to be improving. I have had numerous articles published on various e-zines on the web, none of which are any good. I also have several interests I pursue outside the arena of writing, most of which fall under the category of menial unskilled labor. I unstop plugged commodes whenever my wife thinks I'm spending too much time on the computer.
I also routinely pooper-scoop the yard for my Great Dane, who is unemployed but unwilling to clean up after himself. I could claim to be a freelance writer except for the fact that I've made more money mowing lawns; unless you include those prestigious sites that pay me not to solicit them with material. And there are those publishers which have a restraining order against me... but that's another story.
I've often been compared with Dave Barry and Lewis Grizard, mostly by myself. Other than no one has ever heard of me and my material isn't really very funny; the similarities are uncanny.
I also wrestle with certain neurotic behavior, such as frequently visiting my articles under an anonymous psuedonym I created for the sole purpose of writing gushing reviews for my own articles. Since I have a multiple personality disorder and also suffer severe short term memory loss, it works out quite well for me. I get rave reviews and feel no guilt for doing so since I obviously can't remember a thing. Plus my self-esteem gets a boost in the process.
Tools of the trade
Any good writer must acquire certain tools to flourish. Grammar, composition, and spelling are nice to have in your 'toolbox'. I admit my spelling is sub-par ...often when I hit spell check, my computer automatically goes into a depressed state of dysfunctional digital paranoia and it just sits in the corner wringing its little binary digits in catatonic paroxysm of a dysfunctional breakdown.
I also fight with my apparent lack of technology. Search Engines! What do I know about Search Engines? I can't even find my car keys. Besides, If I were really a writer I'd already have a publisher instead of writing for free, so who needs one?!!
My fame precedes me
Be prepared to labor on in ignominy. Talk about the invisible man! My articles are so well camouflaged, a bloodhound with a GPS tracker couldn't locate me. The other day somebody came up to me while I was eating. "Hey, don't I know you?"
"Well, I said, puffing out my chest and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, I am a writer..."
"No... no, that's not it... didn't I see you drive off with the gas hose still in your car? ...about ten minutes ago down the road!"
Sometimes it helps if I pretend I'm a famous celebrity-writer and I'm intentionally living as a recluse from notoriety to hide from the paparazzi. if I ever do get famous, I will already have acquired those skills. In the meantime I'm just going to float around in cyberspace with all my literary attempts! I am seriously considering a career as a clandestine CIA operative since I often work in complete secrecy and have obtained a level of total anonymity. All of which brings me to the question, do I really exist ...or am I this gossamer apparition that fades in and out of some dimensionless ectoplasmic realm?
You've Been Blogged!
You just read an Hub by Jimagain, the most prolific producer of cyber-flatulence than any other blogger in the blogosphere!
© 2011 Jim Henderson