As we all know, Lynn has a very bizarre and silly way of looking at the creative process; for some unguessable reason, she seems to believe the following stupid things:
- The ability to come up with an idea for a story is a rare gift bestowed on a select few.
- A person cannot write anything that he or she has not experienced.
- An author cannot alter or revise a story concept in mid stream.
- An author cannot alter how a character behaves as part of said revision.
- Her way of looking at the world is a universal truth.
- The lame jokes that were old when she was young are cutting edge.
- The writing process is akin to a trance state that must necessarily isolate a person from interacting with other human beings.
What we’re describing, of course, is the thought processes of The Delicate Genius; we’re also reminding ourselves that like Lynn, he’s a pompous ass and derivative, plodding failure who has no idea how ridiculous he looks to those around him because he has no idea of how to actually write anything worth reading. The reason for that is that he can't see past the surface of a situation to find the story buried underneath.
Let's use an example I once saw in a creative writing course; what I was told was to picture a man in his mid-forties standing on his porch lighting a barbecue. The reason that was used as an example was that, well, any number of events could have led to the gathering together of man, home and barbecue at that specific time and that there were just as many possibilities of what happened to him afterward. A good writer could see that what looks like a rather banal, day-to-day, slice-of-life non-event could, in fact, be part of a fascinating, possibly even riveting, drama; Lynn and Mike can only see a man grilling meat, no more and no less.
Lynn has been able to hide her lack of talent by dribbling out her leaden inability to observe in thirty-second installments; Mike has a harder time of it because he's suffering logorrhea-by-proxy. What he does is that he takes one of the empathy-free human interest stories that he sent in to some fishwrap and buries the pedestrian lack-of-insights under a mountain of high-sounding words so as to bury anyone trying to penetrate his opaque verbiage underneath an avalanche of nonsense. It's like the Twilight saga but without the humanity.