Smarty Pants wants to be a writer. But Smarty Pants has a BIG problem. He has a few stories in mind, but they are no good. He has no proper ideas. He has no knowledge of how to describe true human emotion. Perhaps he doesn't quite know what it is. In any case, Smarty Pants does not want to expose himself in any way to his readers. So Smarty Pants decides to learn some tricks. The tricks of the trade. Because Smarty Pants thinks tricks are what make good literature. Perhaps he joins a creative writing course run by some other Smarty Pants who can teach him a lot of tricks, teach him how to beef up a lousy, impersonal, unemotional piece of text. Use short, snappy sentences. Write about people in strange exotic places. It doesn't matter that you really haven't a clue what you're writing about. It doesn't matter because the readers won't know it either and they don't care anyway - not REALLY. Literary tourism, that's what they want these days, cliched snapshots. Add some pain and some killings. Steal bits and pieces from cheap thriller genres. Then add a LOT of irrelevant details, generally mistaken for ATTENTION to detail. Particularly: every singe paragraph must tell the reader how something smells. Mm, wow, very interesting! When it gets really boring, use present tense. It's all so easy on a word processor, playing around with things. It's just so easy to be a real writer when you know all the tricks and have the technology
The state of literature today. How on Earth did I get through this? Sad to think those trees could still be standing alive and well out in that forest.