Writers' Declaration of Independence

When a mental writer's cramp attacks, a writer must learn to set his red pencil down and walk away with dignity intact and temper in check, with the knowledge that tomorrow will be a different day, not everyone is meant to be the next J.K. Rowling, and chocolate might not make you a better writer, but it will make you a happier one. Keeping that in mind, along with a decent respect for the opinions of readers, editors and publishers, requires that writers should declare the causes which compel them to continue putting their words down on paper, in the everlasting hopes that someone someday, somewhere, will read them with at least a modicum of enjoyment, and perhaps, respect.

A writer's truths are not always self evident or obvious, and all writers are not created equal. Whether they earn millions of loyal fans and dollars, and wallow in perpetual peace and pleasure or just enough to be blissfully happy and fulfilled at the thought of not only keeping baloney in the meat compartment, and toilet paper on the roll, but being paid to give in to their passionate urges on a daily basis, all writers are endowed by their Creator with specific undeniable desires, among them, checks that clear at first deposit, freedom from absentmindedly answering the door in our pajamas at 4 in the afternoon, and the pursuit of publication. To secure these desires, (Publishers are instituted among writers, deriving their powers from the consent of the readers) - that whenever any writer becomes overwhelmed by the process of publication - these writers must alter negative thinking and abolish insecurities, while overcoming the itch to self-flagellate at every rejection, as we scratch out our existence as writers.

Whenever we become self destructive, it will be our responsibility to Institute a policy whereby we are not allowed to visit the refrigerator until we have written at least one page, we shall not ever chat on the phone, file our fingernails, or play solitaire on the computer while we are writing, sneaking peeks at the latest stack of best sellers we picked up at the library when we were pretending to visit it on the guise of a need to do some research. While laying a foundation of sound and realistic principles, we will organize our office space or junk drawer only as a last resort and never to avoid writing. It is not a means to an end but saying what we mean where and when we mean to and to stop being mean to other writers when they are published more often or for more money than we are.

When our mind is as blank as our computer screen, and we need something to drop into it as soon as possible or prior to our next deadline, whichever comes first, we will keep writing through the muck until we find a slice of if not brilliance, at the very least, competence. If the situation becomes desperate, we may go for a walk, listen to music, visit a good friend, read an issue of Writer's Digest or savor a sliver of really creamy chocolate. We may not sort whites from colors, check out bargains on Ebay, email forwards or watch daytime television.

And if we can write it better, shorter, funnier, or more poignantly, we will keep rewriting it until we do.