11 Reasons To Never Date A Writer.

In fact, you should probably get the hell away from us. Everybody. Not just the people we date, but everybody. And quickly before we sink our teeth into you and drain you of everything that's made you pure and good.

See, the things that make us good writers? They make us awful people.

1. We Can Work From Anywhere:
So, you might want to pass on that whole sight-seeing thing while you're on vacation.

2. We Can Teach You Cool New Words:
Words intrigue writers. Not only do we work with them every day, but the idea of discovering a new one (and we all know there are hundreds upon thousands of new ones that we haven't discovered yet) gets us excited. Personally, when I discover a new word, I use it like it's going out of style. And to be honest, it's probably already gone out of style.

Not only do we teach new, exciting words but we expect you to remember them. And we're going to correct your grammar. And flinch any time you leave us a (very thoughtful and I definitely enjoyed every moment of it with the exception of the grammar mistakes) note.

3. We Communicate in a Bunch of Different Ways:
But mostly writing—I hope you don't like the telephone. That shit is rough.

4. We Are Creepy Loners:
We don't necessarily like being alone. It just so happens to be our natural state. You've never seen a writer actually write...have you? Sure, I've taken the liberty of writing in front of people. They sit in the room and talk to me while I sit on my laptop looking pained because their mere presence is throwing off my “writing voice”. And once they're gone, I've erased everything I've written anyways and started again. The majority of the time I do like being alone. Of course, the majority of the time I'm also writing.

5. You Are Wrong. I Am Right:
We make up complete crap all day long. And when we write about said crap, we must write about it with the utmost authority. We all know how to bullshit our way through life. We're good at it. And we start to believe that our confidence in information extends beyond the written page.

”Yes,” you say, “I'm sure that I'm right.”

“No. You're not.”

“No. I'm sure that I'm right.”

“I really don't think that's right.”

“YEAH? Well, You're STUPID! And your head is stupid! Remember how wrong you were about that thing 7 weeks ago?!” We like to do this. So help you if we ever are right. We will hold onto that piece of rightness for the rest of our lives. “I'm a writer. “Right” is even in the word. It used to be spelled R-I-G-H-T-E-R, you know. It's my job to be right.”
No. It's not. But the lines...they blur.

6. The Glass Is Not Half Full, Rather, Filled with Flesh Eating Bacteria:
We're pessimists. Cynics. Hypochondriacs. Conspiracy theorists... (I consciously think of saying “the glass half full” every time I say it.) It's bound to happen. If it hasn't happened to you yet, then it will. In our fiction, the world is broken. Everything that can possibly go wrong, will go wrong. We must think of the worst. And make that even worse. It's what fuels the fire. Who really wants to read a story about unicorns that went to the fun unicorn party and ate candy (and didn't get pimples or gain weight from it) and danced and sang with their merry unicorn friends and pooped rainbows? No one. That's boring stuff. I was bored writing it. Fiction demands that we go to the depths of the stagnant well and produce the grimiest of the grime. And so, we look for the worst in the world. We draw from it. We get used to it. It becomes the norm. We know that the worst can happen. It will happen. We know this because we write about it. Some dude will come up behind you on that park bench and chainsaw your head off. Your plane? It's gonna crash. That mole on the back of your knee? KNEE PIT CANCER.

Knee Pit—noun
Similar to the “armpit” The smooth fleshy surface found on the back of your leg; behind the knee.

7. We Are Liars:
We are lying liars who lie. Lets face it, fiction is a lie, and as you've previously read, we kind of, sort of, get sucked into our writing. When writing, deception is skill. This ensures that the best writers are also the best liars. We can convince you of anything. We don't mean to...who am I kidding? Of course we do. I like to make up totally egregious lies. Like being born with a tail. I know. I'm hilarious.

8. We Are Passionate:
About writing. Not necessarily about you.

9. We Are Thieves:
We are thieving thieves who thieve. See how I just stole that concept from no. 7?
Nothing is original. We steal from anything (and everything) that inspires us to write and fuels our imaginations. We will steal your life. Your life is our fiction. We don't steal your life on purpose, oh no. But we have compulsions. We write what we know because when you write what you know, it's authentic. You're sure not to have some know-it-all telling you that you're wrong and they have a doctorate in knowing right from wrong (I should probably get one of those). So we take your life, we mess it up and throw it into our cup of pessimistic dog-pee tea and stir it up a bit. And you'll read it and be like, “is this me?” and we'll say no. Because we are lying liars who lie.

10. Our Writing is a Temple:
We all say that we love constructive criticism. But we hate it. With a passion. (and if you're going to say that you love constructive criticism, you're a lying liar who lies. But that's okay. Because you are—probably—a writer.) We have poured our hearts and souls into whatever you're reading of ours and you go and criticize it (constructively). There is this small part of our brain that reminds us that this is good. That someone has respected our writing enough to write a three-thousand word criticism about it. They have read it. Liked it. And want us to improve. But the whole time we're thinking “you're a fucking jerk and I hate you. Did you think up this creative piece of shit? No! No you did not.” And then someone else will come over to us while were reading this constructive criticism and say something along the lines of “hey, there are badgers peeing on me. Would you mind maybe kicking a few of them off?” and we'll say “NO! Can't you see I'm WRITING HERE?!?! You don't respect me.” Leave us alone while we're writing. Get someone else to kick your pee-ing badgers off of you.

11. We Force You To Read Our Shit:
At long last, we've finished our fifty pound manuscript. It is almost perfect, but kind of crap at the same time. And we smile at you and look all pretty and then drop it on your lap. And you make this horrible sound like we've broken your pelvic bone, but we smile. “I'm done,” we'll say.

“Great!” You'll wince at the weight.

“Read it.”

“It's kind of big...”

“So?”

“Okay, I just have some things to take care of first...maybe getting these badgers to stop peeing on me, then I'll get right to reading that.”

“Awesome.”

Two days later, we come back. “Did you read it?”