get really into cigars, have opinions on modern opera, loudly talk about the last time you went wine tasting, own a tuxedo, start using sir or madam or “You there!”, get a designer cane, lament the passing of the top hat, practice saying “My good chap!” in the mirror
As far as writers go, you have two paths:
- The Sophisticate: Basically the above, but you own a typewriter and understand My Dinner with Andre. Highly organized prose. You either publish in the arts section of a newspaper or in a fancy literary journal - assuming this isn't a side gig for you next big novel, that is.
- The Deranged: Disheveled as fuck, chain smoking twenty cigarettes at any given time, self-described pervert with media preferences to match. Prose is highly polemical and incoherent. You publish all your writing in zines, which you then tie to bricks you throw through people's windows (you'd call it culture jamming or propaganda of the deed if you were more widely read).
This just reminds me of this, but for writing.
All writers probably fit really snugly somewhere on this chart. I'm securely in the bottom right, for the record.
