Repository of Impertinent Questions and their Answers
My Trusted Advisors tell me I should call this Important Section the “Frequently Asked Questions.” Fie! Am I to expect you to merely take my Word for it that these Questions are indeed asked frequently? I fear you would require Statistical Proof before trusting such a brazen Assertion. But Woe and Lamentations, the Directorate’s Vizier of Numberology recently met an unfortunate Fate when he did not complete a Critical Report in a timely Manner. So I shall simply let you read the Questions, and their Authoritative Answers, without the Distraction of discerning Frequency of their Asking.
Q: How does this work?
A: O my little Ducklings, it is Simplicity Itself. Agents of the Directorate must Write, or suffer the Dire Consequences. The Directorate will offer regular Important Communications with Wise Advice and Stern Encouragement; we will also provide Writing Exercises. Agents will Write.
Q: What? Dire Consequences? That doesn’t sound very good.
A: Indeed, it’s not. Agents must write, for Words left unwritten Fester and take on a Foul Life of their own. In extreme cases, the Unwritten Words can attain Sentience, and Rise Up on their Pale and Spindly Limbs, and prowl through the World, feeding on the Blood and Flesh of the Innocent and Guilty alike, leaving a trail of Tears and Havoc in their wake. Agents must be Sternly Disciplined if they do not Achieve their Missions. The Consequences may sound Dire, but they pale in Comparison to the consequences of Rogue Words loosed upon an Unsuspecting and (Mostly) Undeserving World.
We cannot afford to Fail.
Q: Uh, what kind of Dire Consequences?
A: Consequences are Varied, and may be Customized to the Situation. Recalcitrant Writers may have one or more Limbs fed to the Ravenous VerbHounds; they may find themselves dragged to the Vasty Depths of the Gazing Pond in the Tender but Damp Arms of the Kraken of Characterization. A lapsed Agent may simply be thrown into a Pit of Scorpions. One Agent found himself devoured by Zombie Sherpas, and is now little more than a Brain floating in a Vat of Murky Brine. Dozens, even hundreds, of other Consequences remain Secret, only to be Unveiled when they are Needed to encourage lax Agents to complete their Missions.
Do not doubt the Resources of the Directorate.
Q: What am I supposed to write?
A: That is entirely Your Decision. You may write a Novel, or a Short Story, or a Screen-Play, or a Work of Non-Fiction: that is up to you. If you do not have a Mission, the Directorate may Suggest a Mission for you (that novel about the Intrepid Lady-Journalist, the Zeppelin, and the Yeti is not going to write Itself). You will also choose your Rate of Progress. However, you will be held Strictly Accountable, and suffer Dire Consequences if you do not complete the Work you have set for yourself.
Q: But everything I write is Really Bad.
A: Perhaps; perhaps not. Quality, however, is the concern of the Directorate of Fiction-Quality, an even more shadowy Organization than this one. I suggest you stop fretting about Quality, and simply Write. The Directorate’s Motto is subsiste sermonem statim et scribe.
Q: But it’s really really really Bad. If I write this, the Townspeople will rise up with Torches and Stern Words of Condemnation. They will break my Fingers and take away my Type-Writing Machine. They will–
A: Subsiste sermonem statim et scribe.
Q: What does that mean?
A: Shut the fuck up and write.
Q: But I want to be an Excellent Writer! Not just one who writes and writes.
A: That is indeed a Noble Ambition, and We wish you the best of Luck. The first Step to being an Excellent Writer is to Write, and that is the Directorate’s Mission. O, yes, my capuchins, I could Lecture you about the Subtleties of the Craft, but that would be to No Avail unless you were already Writing tremendous quantities of Pages. First, Write; Second, become Excellent. First you must Write, or the VerbHounds will consume your Limbs.
Q: Are you serious? You’re going to cut off my leg and feed it to the VerbHounds if I don’t write enough?
A: Don’t be Ridiculous. I would never cut off your Limbs. The VerbHounds are quite capable of Gnawing off the Limbs they desire without any Untidy Sawing on my part. Perhaps it is time for you to get Busy.
Q: Can lapsed agents be rehabilitated?
A: Of course! The Directorate is a Benevolent Organization, dedicated to bringing out the Best in our Agents while Saving the World. We Realize it is Hard to Write when missing one or more Limbs or Vital Organs. Agents who Prove themselves Worthy may have their Limbs (or skillfully crafted Replacements) restored by the Directorate’s expert Surgeons. One recalcitrant writer, who was reduced to nothing more than a Brain floating in a Vat of Murky Brine has already earned back his Skull, a few Wispy Strands of Hair, a Spinal Cord, and a Shelf upon which to place his Type-Writing Machine. He currently aspires to earn a Nose.
Q: This doesn’t seem very nice. Don’t you know that I am a Precious Snowflake and my Inner Artist must be nurtured? Preferably with tea and Bountiful Praise. And Foot-Rubs; I would like a Foot-Rub. And a Pony, surely a Pony is essential.
A: Sometimes you need a Carrot; sometimes you need a Stick. The Directorate, my little Snowflake, is in the Stick Business. O, what a Stern and Uncompromising Business it is! We feel we have no Choice but to be Utterly Stern with our Agents, for the Consequences of their Failure are so Dire.
If you are not Brave enough to accept the Directorate’s Mission at this Time, I am trust you can find a more Felicitous site on the Inter-Net.
Q: How do I become an agent?
A: O, my little Sea Anemone, the Future holds many Marvelous developments. For now, simply sign up for our Mailing List, and participate in the Exercises, and read the Web-Log posts.
Q: Wow, this is completely not for me. How do I stop being an agent?
A: Woe! Lamentations! It is a great source of Sorrow to me to see you leave our Ranks. But I am Wise enough to know that the only Successful Agents are those who Whole-Heartedly wish to be here. Leaving is as easy as unsubscribing from the Mailing List and Ignoring this fine Web-Site. Leaving us may be the Easiest writing-related Task you ever Undertake.
Q: How do I –
A: Subsiste sermonem statim et scribe.
