101 Reasons to Stop Writing

Right now, you’re probably feeling some anxiety, maybe even outrage. What if one of your in-the-field submissions winds up on the fire? How dare those agents delight in combusting your opus?

Relax. The manuscripts that fuel today’s blazes are not tomorrow’s Kafkas and Nabakovs — they’re just decorated kindling, firewood that took a detour through a paper mill and a cheap inkjet printer before it found its flame.

Without a doubt, deep in the shadows of your fragile heart, you know that some of the stuff you’ve written has all the literary merit of initials carved in a tree the day before a forest fire. Why not discover the healing powers of ISBD for yourself, by making your own contribution?

• Get out all the old practice novels, the forgotten fragments, the dream-inspired short stories and the drug-poetry, anything you haven’t even re-read in years, and make your own bonfire. You’ve already learned the lessons from writing them. They’re worth as much as those “Good Sportsman” awards from high school. It’s one less packing box next time you move.
• If you can’t bear to light the match yourself, drive downtown, find the cluster of down-and-out failed writers who are wearing what’s left of their manuscripts in their jackets, and toss your papers into the oil drum. You’ll find comfort in knowing that your writings gave someone a warm feeling for five minutes. 
• All your old hard drives, the unmarked floppy disks and CDROMs that you think might contain something? Magnet, then sledgehammer, then barbecue pit. Anything you’ve written that’s worth keeping is already in your My Documents directory. You’ll never get around to sorting through the old files, and even if you did, it would just be the drivel I listed in the first point.