Meta

I hate meta. In all earnestness, I hate meta. It’s just a bunch of jargon summing up to ‘I’ve run out of creativity’. It’s the most insincere form of writing, which might sound counterintuitive because you are being sincere in what you’re writing. No, you aren’t; just tell us you’ve got writer’s block and don’t be such a baby about it???

What sort of writer sits down and thinks to themself, ‘Hey, it’s a beautiful day and I have so many ideas about this fantastic world that I’m making up in a sub-process in my very own cool machine-head and I think I’ll jot that down’ and proceeds to write about hitting writers block? Authors who indulge in meta need to grow up. Only well-known authors with an established creative trademark get to indulge in writing about their dried up, desolate desert.

I absolutely believe in the supremacy of good literature and art-form, specially escaping into another character as you write – the main reason someone writes, at least for me, is to escape. Writing meta is arguably counterintuitive – anyone with a frontal cortex capable of reasoning and intelligence would know that. I wouldn’t know how writing meta feels like, because obviously from my argument above, I’d only have to be a hypocrite if I were to indulge in the sin of meta; whoever reads meta (following a similar argument, I don’t read meta anymore, not even mine) probably lives a very dull existence with no developed decisions of their own. If you read any meta, including any of my work, I advice you to stay away from me for your own good.

Meta-enjoyers can be clustered with the disgraceful population of reddit sex-enjoyers; they share the same degeneracy. For all my chemists out there, stop smiling and get back to inhaling toxic lab fumes. Meta-writers are worse – they can be considered synonymous to the people who leave social dinners early because they’re tired, often referred to as the ‘loser’. Anyway, it’s a beautiful day and...