A writer gets in trouble with the people around him for using their experiences in his novels.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had furious calls from people who were outraged when I used something in a story or in an article that reminded them too much of something that had happened to them.

I’ve always had the weird ‘quality’ that people start opening up to me. It’s probably just because I happen to care in a world where nobody really listens and nobody seems to ever care about what misery befalls someone else, at least not without judging and offering instant advice. These days I use that attitude as a therapist and not as a vampiric writer. No, wait, I do, I just don’t use what clients tell me for stories.

Anyway, this movie was quite confronting. It could have been about me. Without the whores. I’ve never been able to get myself to have sex with prostitutes, there’s just no thrill in it, I find it too degrading for both parties.

Did you know that my wife calls me ‘Woody’ in private? And it’s not because I wake up with a woody in the morning, a blessing of nature I will continue to have till I’m about 50 and my arteries will be too clogged to allow for the needed blood flow to my penis.

I have all the mannerisms of the main character, the merciless self-flagellation, the fetish for language, the being so transparent you hide better than anyone, the self-obsession, the disengaging when a relationship becomes too intimate, the endless talking, the endless self-analysis, the not being fit to do anything except writing, the psychobabble, and constant exploiting of every day life for the only life that ultimately seems to matter the life of the words on paper.

Watch it, and do as I do, stay away from writers. They are egocentric assholes who vampirizes whatever happens to them and to you to fuel their ‘art’ (read: their ego).

Other, non-writer, people are also egocentric assholes, but they have the decency or humility to not exploit the drama they cause as writing material.