The Writers Cloak Of Invisibility


You love writing, you do it every chance you get. Bathroom stall graffiti… no problem. Scribbles on the blank wall of a public building? You bet, maybe even in color. Autographing someones yearbook… uh… without their knowing it? Sure!

Writing, it’s what you love, it’s what you do. Then along comes someone who says, “You’ll never be a writer.”

Naturally, you’re devastated. But, then who wouldn’t be, right?

Well you for one, because you realize just how stupid that individual was. And so to make sure this person doesn’t make that mistake again… you spray paint what a great writer you’re going to be, all over their forehead.

Still they’re not impressed. But writing consumes your life and a writer you will be.

You think back to how it all started. Your mom and dad bought you crayons to draw pictures and write the alphabet with. The bedroom wall became your stationary. You thought; “Why waste paper?” Soon you branched out to living rooms, kitchens, and ultimately… the bathrooms.

Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Dr. Seuss were your mentors. You tried to let them know this by writing in the margins of their books. Okay, so the librarians weren’t impressed, but that didn’t matter, because you’re a writer.

Soon you graduated to writing love letters—to every bill collector who ever requested money from you. The collection agency’s became enamored with your masterful use of profanity. You know this, because they kept sending you more statements of their affection.

You reasoned that they must have thought, “What a magnificent four letter vocabulary you have.”

Publishers couldn’t wait to get their hands on your manuscripts—they just didn’t know how. This might explain why none of your manuscripts ever get rejected.

Your skill at writing also extended to writing on other peoples hands; particularly girls you wanted to date. “For a good time, call me.” That’s when you discovered girls didn’t know how to use the phone. What other possible reason could there be for your phone not ringing?

Then you started a personal journal.

Although, your sister never fully appreciated you reading her diary, you were comfortable in the knowledge that she loved the funny remarks you left behind! Why else would she scream (literally) about it to mom and dad?

Finally, your writing was getting noticed.

How could you not be a good writer, especially when all your teacher’s used to say “I want you to write, on the board ‘I will not write (with permanent marker) on my fellow classmates new clothes’ 100 times each.”

Then came the internet. Google! The world was about to become your oyster.

This thought seemed pretty funny to you at the time (but to no one else) since it had absolutely nothing to do with your writing—but you couldn’t resist putting it into this post anyway.

The magical day was at hand. The one when you discovered, you could start a blog—and it was absolutely free! You were impressed… even if WordPress wasn’t.

Now you could spread all your pearls of wisdom (yeah right) before swine—although, why you would ever want to spread your writings before a bunch of non-reading pigs is still a question, not to mention other ne’er-do-wells—instead of reaching out to the more intelligent readers out there…

Like those who watch foreign movies for the subtitles.

Yes, you’ve finally become what you were always meant to be; a virtually invisible, disrespected, unpaid grammatical menace to readership around the world. And even more inexplicably; better writers, seemed to have fallen under your spell!

Which is why you now wear the cloak of invisibility.  You also get to wear it with pride—because you’re the only one who has one!


60 comments on “The Writers Cloak Of Invisibility

  1. You, sir, could never be invisible!

    Wherever do you come up with your subjects? A nost enjoyable post. Were you my brother, reading MY journal, you would have no fingers with which to type…

  2. Spray painted a Mercedes, did you? That doesn’t help a career you know. Of course I don’t know what does. Love being able to post my caca out there too! So much easier than publishers.

    • LOL It doesn’t? Thank you Kate, seems, I’ve been terribly misinformed! Yeah, I don’t know why publishers don’t appreciate the kind of doo doo we’re turning out here, but THEY’ll REGRET IT! Someday we’ll be in the fortune 500 Club, and lets just see if we will write any of this crap for them then? That will show em. After reading your post I discovered Saturday’s aren’t your best days, but I hope you had a great weekend all the same. :O)

  3. Does the cloak of invisibility come in black? I need something that will not only makes me a virtually invisible, disrespected, unpaid grammatical menace to readership around the world, but will also be slimming.

    Loved this post.

    • Thank you Lily. I knew I could count on you for good fashion sense. I’ve talked to my people at Versace and they tell me that soon they will be releasing a writers cloak of invisibility in a slimming, but stylish gray/grey (as depending on where you live, there are two spellings of the color, or is it colour). All the best lady bloggers will be wearing it. Versace thinks it’ll be the rage, because it just screams “Unpaid Grammatical Menace!” ;o)

      • Ooh, nothing screams ‘unpaid Grammatical Menace,’ like stylish grey. I knew that you would have my back. While I’m at it, I wonder if you also do the winged sandals of ‘Blogger most likely to make people smash their computers in frustration?’ Also in a slimming grey if you please. I have big feet. 🙂

      • Sorry Lily, but the folks at WordPress apparently are suffering brain farts today (Today? I’m beginning to think they are afflicted with this problem everyday!) They have erased—and for no apparent reason—16 comments from my readers today and although this is a record for them… I am sure it will be topped (by themselves) in the near future. Talk about making sure that you all (myself included) wear a writers cloak of invisibility! Anyway, my response (to your comment regarding winged shoes to match your new designer—slimming—writers cloak of invisibility) is that I will get the folks at Jimmy Choo to work on designing a pair of glittery winged shoes to match that new designer cloak—and right away! Can’t have a designer cloak without designer shoes, that will never do. Only the best for my readers!!!

  4. Invisible? Not likely. You are the only person I know whose responses are as consistently funny as the actual post. I never know where to start with a response because I’m either laughing, confused or both. I often wonder if your mind ever rests..:) Another very funny piece, Paul.

  5. Pearls, oysters, swine and ne’er-do-wells make pretty good company in the blogosphere I think! I wouldn’t change my gang of possums for a NY Times review. (actually that last sounds mighty scary!)

  6. I would just like to apologize to many of you folks for not seeing your comments here at the bottom…at the moment there are nearly 40 responses missing already. I don’t know if WordPress employees went and tied one on over the weekend and forgot how to do there jobs (seeing that it is Monday morning, it is not a farfetched idea), but I would like to let you all know that I am as frustrated as you for the glitch. But, maybe not as nearly frustrated as those WordPress folks who felt they had to go out and get as intoxicated as they did over the weekend. So please accept my apology for not seeing your clever and funny responses at the bottom (I appreciated them all) and had nothing to do with them being erased. However, please know certain members of WordPress may get an unexpected call this next weekend from a couple of my friends by the names of, Vitto, and Vinnie.

  7. Once again I have raised a ruckus (as opposed to a cloud of dust) over at WordPress, for attempting (and apparently succeeding) with the eraser of several (many of which were hysterical) comments on this (my current) post. It seems we all are to wear the “Writers Cloak of Invisibility” if WordPress is to have their way. Those of you who had your comments erased know how funny I found them, and like me, are now in search of WordPress’ funny bone—which is obviously, missing. We will not rest until the WordPress employee responsible for this outrage is caught and hung by his fingertips (to prevent it from ever happening again), or until we get sleepy and need a nap. Thank you devoted readers for your patience, many of which you pummeled (along with me) in our attempt to get to the bottom of this mystery. ;o)

  8. If someone wants to become a ghostwriter, and they hire someone else to write their resume … does that tear the fabric of the space-time continuum and create a catastrophic paradox?

    Asking for a friend.

    • Only if the ghostwriter writing on behalf of the other ghostwriter happens to be writing something approaching the speed of light, in which case the ghostwriter would be writing slower. Although if he can write as fast as the speed of light, the other ghostwriter would notice no difference in his speed of writing, thus, avoiding any possible paradox—unless of course the fabric the ghostwriter is wearing at the time of his writing happens to made of spandex polymer with Aluminized Mylar, then all bets are off. ;o)

      • Oh, good. So that wasn’t a tear in the space-time continuum I heard — it was just a rip in the spandex polymer.

        I think we’re OK, then, because this particular ghostwriter can’t write ANYTHING at the speed of light … unless it’s a bad rent check, in which case writing at the speed of light is a handy skill. As is owning an invisibility cloak.

  9. Hi,
    I know AbyssBrain. Thank you so much for coming to my Linky Party today. I wish I could invite you to next week’s, but I’m out of town until late July. I appreciate you stopping by though. I will be resuming on July 27.

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