The Angry Arbiters of Everything
Can everybody please chill?
A Note on Substack caught my eye the other day. A man wanted it known that although he’s never written a book, he is an author. His reasoning was that he publishes regularly on Substack.
Knowing this was sure to ruffle the feather on someone’s quill pen, I grabbed some popcorn and headed into the comments.
Most people supported him. But after a scroll or two, I found what I’d come for. Another man told him that he is not, in fact, an author, but a writer. In a most thoughtful gesture, he included a dictionary definition of “author,” which said something like “a person who writes books as a profession.”
The original poster volleyed back with a different dictionary definition that supported his position.
More words were exchanged, and I found myself wanting to clonk these guys’ heads together a la Moe with Larry and Curly. (I know I went looking for the very kind of back-and-forth that annoyed me, but what can I tell you; neither Moe nor I are always the most rational of fellows.)
My issue with the first guy was, who gives a shit what you call yourself? You can say you’re the Archduke of Wordsmithery for all I care. Your note seemed designed to provoke fussy know-it-alls.
My issue with the second guy was, who gives a shit what the first guy calls himself? Is there an “author” ceiling that we’re butting up against? And is “title gatekeeper” an elected or appointed position?
I’ve seen this debate before, but what fascinates me isn’t the topic itself but the larger condition of which it’s a symptom: looking for a fight and being all up in other people’s business are fast becoming our national pastimes.
Those that excel at these activities have honed two distinct traits: anger and entitlement.