However, what I have discovered this morning is that these crazed writers are not just authors of science fiction, fantasy and obscure meaningless poetry as I imagined. They are not even affected by booze, drugs and mental illness. (Well not all of them.) They are just poor unfortunate writers, such as Mrs T, who have been cruelly afflicted by a terrible disease called Typo Fuckitupitus
Now there are several degrees of this Typo Fuckitupitus. Unfortunately, I am in the advanced stage. This is because I have started seeing typos and grammatical errors that don't even exist. This is where every full-stop, comma, capital letter in my entire manuscript is leaping out at me wearing striped socks, red jumpers and rotating lights whilst screaming;
ARE YOU SURE YOU'VE GOT IT RIGHT?
I have now got to the point where a heroin trip, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey and a large joint would be like a stroll in the park.
I am, in fact, going insane. I'm developing acute paranoia. Writing a novel has turned out to be like giving birth. Only with less blood.
Well so far. That could change.
|This is what happens to writers with Typo Fuckitupitus. As the author of children's picture books, this writer thought she was immune from the illness - until she found she'd spelt her own name wrong on front cover.|