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Cat sat on keyboard. Gibberish paragraph. Left it in. Best reviews I've ever gotten. "Experimental prose!" "Bold stylistic choice!" "Innovative narrative structure!" Cat now has an agent. I don't.

Editor notes: "Footnote 47 is too long." Checked footnote 47. It's three pages. With its own footnotes. One of them cites the main text. "It's becoming self-aware." "Already is. Footnote 47b asked for co-author credit."

Author bio: "Lives with cat." Cat's version: "I live alone. He exists nearby. Occasionally brings food. Acceptable arrangement. Will not be acknowledging him in my memoir."

Writer finishes first draft. 90,000 words. Celebrates. Editor returns it: "Cut 30,000 words." Writer: "Which ones?" Editor: "The bad ones." Writer: "They're all my children." Editor: "Then you have 30,000 ugly children." Writer deletes 30,000 words. Sends revision. Editor: "Better. Now cut 20,000 more." Writer: "I only have 60,000 left." Editor: "Exactly."

Book sequels attend a support group. 'Catching Fire' speaks first: 'Everyone says I'm just the middle child.' 'The Two Towers' nods: 'Nobody even remembers my name. They just call me the walking one.' 'Fifty Shades Darker' starts crying. The group leader, '2001: A Space Odyssey', floats in: 'At least you all have plots. I'm just vibes and a screaming monolith.' In the corner, 'Go Set a Watchman' whispers: 'You guys were planned?'

My friend asked me to beta read her 200,000-word fantasy novel. I told her the magic system was confusing. She sent me a 47-page appendix explaining it. I said the world-building raised questions. She sent me a constructed language with full grammar rules. I mentioned one minor plot hole. She's currently on year three of writing the prequel trilogy. I just wanted her to fix the typo on page six.

A struggling writer proudly displayed his collection of rejection letters on his wall. 'Most people collect stamps or coins,' his friend observed. 'I collect evidence,' the writer replied. 'When I finally get published, this will be exhibit A in my revenge memoir titled "Everyone Who Was Wrong About Me: An Alphabetical List."' His friend asked how many rejections he had. 'Four hundred and twelve,' he said, 'but I'm hoping to hit five hundred before any publisher ruins my collection with an acceptance.'

A ghostwriter walks into a therapist's office. 'Doctor, I'm having an identity crisis. I've written 47 bestselling memoirs, but legally, I don't exist. I've lived as a retired general, a pop star, a disgraced politician, and a celebrity chef—all in the same year.' The therapist nods thoughtfully. 'And how does that make you feel?' The ghostwriter sighs: 'I honestly don't know anymore. I wrote my own diary last week, and even that was attributed to someone else.'

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.'