Sometimes it seems that the writing blogosphere is in danger of sinking in a slurry pit of humblebragging, big tarting, whingeing and all-round delusional blathering. Forums are swamped with writers essentially either bigging themselves up under guise of questions they don’t want answered or moaning about their sorry lot under guise of making ‘objective’ observations about how the industry works.

One of the best/worst humblebrags I saw recently was from a writer claiming she had a dilemma and would appreciate our views. She apparently couldn’t decide whether or not to attend a prize-giving event where her book was a candidate. Her reasons for going or not going made no sense but then they weren’t really the point. What she was actually saying was: HEY, HEY! I’M UP FOR A PRIZE! ISN’T THAT GREAT! HEY, HEY! EVERYONE CONGRATULATE ME!

One of the negative effects of the internet is that such irritating behaviour receives instant support from others who also practice it. In the old days, you only had the pub to humblebrag in and let’s face it, if the person above had had to put such a pointless question face-to-face, others would have been splitting their sides. When you can’t see someone, they can get away with the implication that they’re poker-faced in making big tart claims. But when they’re directly in front of you, the faux frowns and conflicted waving of the hands looks exactly like what it is: pantomime protest designed to encourage compliments.

Under the surface of all this fake modesty, humility and bashful acknowledgement of the support of like-minded fellows, I suspect something like this mind-set is constantly plotting one’s self-aggrandisement:

• My life is defined by being a writer. It’s what I tell others I am and what I want to be respected for.
• To do writing well requires a long period of training, constant practice and on top of that the courage and talent to keep pushing the boundaries of my creative limits.
• But I prefer to talk a lot about writing; to produce a blog full of advice to other writers; to post a couple of thousand words a day on writers’ forums. I am convinced that all this activity is the same as creative writing.
• If I make the maximum out of the small amount of creative work I actually produce, this will somehow bring about my ‘breakthrough’.
• When I get my breakthrough, everything will change. Publishers will chase me with contracts; my agent will handle all the financial arrangements; I will be free to write what I really want to write.
• I can’t write what I really want to write now in case I miss my breakthrough moment.
• My advice to others (on how to do what I haven’t done myself) is based on my minimal actual experience but I just know it’s wisely universal.
• I ignore all inconvenient advice from commercially successful writers (usually involving hard work, persistence and humility) and justify it with the view that they just churn out product and don’t understand art.
• I must at all times support the humblebragging and self-delusion of the other writers on my forums. This is crucial in order to maintain my self-respect.
• I am defined by being a writer. Nothing must ever question this. If I’m not a writer, I’m just an ordinary person who watches television and avoids the truth.
• If I’m going to achieve my aim to be a recognised writer, I need to make more effort, basically. But if I make more effort, I will break the edifice of ‘writer’ I have spent years building.
• Edifice is everything and must be protected at all costs.
• I will support all advice that encourages delaying tactics rather actual results, e.g. that writing is re-writing; that great work only comes from endless revisions and multiple drafts.
• Being a WRITER is much more important than being a writer.
• I must always protect the circle of self-delusion, e.g. I must regularly link my numerous forum posts to similar numerous posts on my blog; never let outside advice threaten the edifice.
• I had a couple of books published many years ago but I must never admit this was in effect the end of my career; that I now need to try and try again in different ways. Instead, I’ll mention my ‘work in progress’ frequently, and my agent, and encourage everyone to believe my career is still alive.
• I’ll take up teaching. Many creative writing establishments are only too happy to give teaching jobs to real writers, not those commercial imposters.
• I will make sure my students learn about real writing from me. I will give them the indisputable truths of writing, e.g. that re-writing is writing.

Or:

• Write because you want to. When you want to, you’re more likely to love to.
• If you don’t want to, don’t.
• If you don’t write, do something else. You can always come back to it when the something else has given you real stuff to write about.
• Find out what needs doing from those who know, not those who say they know.
• Do what needs doing; struggle with the constant contradiction between creative impulse and fiscal need.
• Always be honest about what you’re actually writing and why.
• Brag, don’t humblebrag.
• Don’t support the group mind, especially when it’s buttressing each others’ edifices.
• As a general rule reverse the advice given by writers who don’t actually write very much.
• Don’t let yourself forget that writing is an improving game, not a consolidation exercise.
• Write because you want to.