Bedtime Stories

A writing student asks her professor: 'How do I know when my novel is finished?' The professor replies: 'There are two schools of thought. Hemingway believed a novel was done when you could cut no more. Tolstoy believed it was done when your horse died of old age waiting for you to return from the writing cabin. Choose your horse wisely.'

A self-help author walked into a therapist's office looking devastated. 'What's wrong?' the therapist asked. 'I just finished writing my 47th book on overcoming procrastination,' he sighed. 'And?' 'It took me fifteen years.' The therapist nodded sympathetically. 'Have you tried reading any good books on the subject?' The author burst into tears: 'I can't—I'm too busy writing them!'

A minimalist author spends twenty years writing his masterpiece. His editor finally receives the manuscript: a single page with one sentence. 'This is it?' she asks. 'It took me two decades,' he replies proudly. 'The first ten years were spent writing a 900-page epic. The next ten were spent cutting it down to its essence.' She reads aloud: 'Things happened, then ended.' He nods solemnly. 'Every word was earned.'

A ghostwriter attended a séance, hoping to contact famous deceased authors for inspiration. The medium channeled Shakespeare, who immediately asked, 'So you too write things and let someone else take credit?' The ghostwriter nodded sheepishly. Shakespeare laughed: 'Welcome to the club. You think I wrote all those plays alone? I had twelve ghostwriters. We called ourselves the Bard's Dozen.'

If Shakespeare had autocorrect: 'To be or not to be' would become 'To bee or not to bee, that is the question about honey.' 'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?' would read 'Romeo, Romeo, where fort art thou, Romeo?' And 'Out, damned spot!' would helpfully suggest 'Out, darned Spot!' with a picture of a Dalmatian.

A young writer received her manuscript back from an editor with a single note: 'I couldn't put it down.' Thrilled, she called to thank him. 'Oh,' he said, 'I meant the coffee cup I was using as a paperweight. I needed both hands to write all the corrections.'

A philosopher decides to write his autobiography. After three years, he submits a manuscript of exactly one page. His editor is furious: 'Where's the rest? Your childhood? Your education? Your career?' The philosopher shrugs: 'I examined each memory and realized I couldn't verify any of them independently. My childhood might be a false memory. My degrees could be hallucinations. My career is just other people's opinions. The only thing I can confirm with certainty is this sentence: I am currently writing.' The editor pauses. 'And the title?' 'I Think, Therefore I Might Have Been.'

A novelist asked an AI to review her manuscript. The AI responded: 'Your protagonist lacks motivation, your plot has seventeen holes, and your dialogue is stilted.' The novelist sighed and said, 'Finally, feedback as harsh as my mother's.' The AI continued: 'Also, your mother was right about law school.'

Charles Dickens was famously paid by the word. Legend has it that his accountant once questioned a manuscript: 'Mr. Dickens, did the character really need to walk through SEVENTEEN different neighborhoods to reach his destination?' Dickens replied, 'My dear sir, he was lost. And at sixpence per word, I sincerely hope he remains lost for at least three more chapters.'

A debut author finally lands a meeting with a prestigious literary agent. The agent places an hourglass on the desk and says, 'You have three minutes to pitch your novel.' The author begins: 'It's a multi-generational saga spanning—' The agent flips the hourglass upside down. 'Two minutes.' The author speeds up: 'There's a family curse and—' Another flip. 'One minute.' Panicking, the author blurts: 'Dragons!' The agent smiles, shakes his hand: 'Congratulations, you've just described the entire fantasy genre. I'll take it.'

An unreliable narrator was called to testify in court. The judge asked, 'Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?' The narrator replied, 'Well, Your Honor, I'll tell you what I remember happening, but I should mention I was drunk at the time, harboring resentment toward the defendant, and I may have repressed some key memories. Also, I'm not entirely sure I exist.' The prosecutor immediately moved to dismiss. 'Your Honor, I've worked with this witness before—he's from a literary fiction novel. Last time he testified, the jury spent six months debating whether the crime even happened.'

Welcome to the Unreliable Narrator Hotline. Or is it? I definitely work here. I've always worked here. Actually, I might be a figment of your imagination. Press 1 if you believe me. Press 2 if you don't, but I should mention I'm also the one counting your button presses. Your call is important to us. Allegedly.