Anyway, here's a meme, stolen off commoncomitatus.
Signs you might be afflicted with the condition known as WRITER:
Bold the ones that apply, italicise the ones that partially apply, and strikethrough those that don't apply at all... I have a feeling my answers to this might have been different several years ago, but anyway, here we go...
You would rather talk to the voices in your head than the person sitting next to you. [They always talked to me, not the other way around. I only talk to myself, and the television.]
You know the research librarian’s office, cell, and home phone numbers but can’t remember your own. -- [I know far too many random telephone / fax numbers and post-codes thanks to having to type them out on a daily basis. It's quite sad, really.]
Some of the letters on your keyboard are completely worn off. [At work this is especially true, and on my old keyboard there were barely any left at all. This keyboard is fairly new.]
You would rather write than go out. [I would rather do most things than go out, to be fair.]
Your/you’re and their/there/they’re errors send you into an apoplectic fit.
You get cranky if you don’t get to write. [Hello, welcome to my recurring insanity.]
You’ve ever said, “The voices are getting louder; I must go write.” [Probably not out loud, though.]
You’ve heard/seen something and thought, I need to write that down. [Not for a long time, but yes. I get inspiration from the randomest things.]
You wake up in the middle of the night and scrabble for the pen and paper you keep next to your bed to write down a scene to make the voices be quiet so you can get some sleep. [Less so these days, but ah! those heady days of 5.00am writing...]
Getting the scene finished is more important than food, coffee, or the bathroom.
A blank wall becomes the screen where the scene you’re writing takes place right in front of your eyes. [Actually, a blank wall is usually what I see when the writer's block hits.]
The easiest way for you to deal with conflict is to go home and write it into your story. [I used to resolve all problems via fanfic. Alas, that doesn't work with physical problems.]
You have a favorite line from every movie you’ve seen.
You argue with said character.
You have a folder on your computer labeled “Ideas.” Some of the files within this folder have only one or two words or sentences and while they made perfect sense fifteen years ago, between the software changes in that period of time garbling half the words and your own faulty memory, you have no idea what it means or where you were going with it. But you keep it anyway because you never know, you might remember it eventually. [Well, I have lots of ideas written down, and there are probably a few dotted around the LJ. I usually do remember what they all are, though. I have plans to finish WIPs which are about 10 years old, you know. I have a feeling I will finish all this stuff when I retire and then create more bloody WIPs in the process.]
The “sermon notes” section of the Sunday morning bulletin comes home every week filled in with ideas or scenes for your WIP.
The only magazine quiz you regularly fill out is the vocabulary quiz in The Writer—and you score at least 18/20 every time and cut it out to hang on your fridge.
Your idea of a vacation is going somewhere like Denver, Houston, Dallas, or Minneapolis to attend a writer’s conference, and you never leave the hotel.
You have a hard time explaining what you “do.” [At school I found it difficult to make people understand that I when I did 'creative writing', it wasn't for homework...]
You–hold on, I have to check my e-mail . . .
You do everything you can think of to procrastinate from writing, then turn the light on in the middle of the night and furtively write a few hundred words because you feel guilty for not writing. [More that I would procrastinate from writing by doing, say, actual work, and then pay the price later when the Muses refused to shut up.]
You don’t meet “new friends”; you meet “potential characters.”
You stay in bed ten minutes after you wake up structuring the details of your dream into a novel synopsis, complete with character descriptions, setting, and costumes. [I work them through on the bus to work and type them up if I have chance. Failing which I have a notebook by the bed for the same purpose.]
You have a cup or canister filled with pens and pencils in every room of the house—and yet you can never find a pen when you really need one. You also put the dry pens back in the cup, simply because it seems like a waste to throw away a perfectly good pen casing—one of these days, you might actually buy some refills. -- [I d periodically go through and get rid of the dead pens, though. :).]
You text-message yourself while out and about so you won’t forget a great name, a piece of dialogue, or a story idea you saw/heard while you were out. -- [I have fo'realz done this.]
In a group discussion/debate, you can can always see the other person’s point of view—literally. You’re composing their internal dialogue, visceral and emotional reactions while they talk.
You’re never bored, because your characters are always there to entertain you.
You’ve ever gone anywhere “in character” for research purposes.
You know that critters aren’t cute little fuzzy animals, but the people who shred any delusions you may have about how wonderful your writing is. [It's so hard to shake that defence mechanism.]
You would so buy the perfume “New Book Smell.” [OMG yes.]
You buy tons of cool gel-ink or other nifty pens and cannot bypass a sale on your favorite spiral notepads even though you haven’t written longhand since the Clinton Administration. -- [If I had money.]
You aren’t concerned when someone else talks about “the voices” not leaving them alone—in fact, you ask them about their voices and tell them about your own. [The only people I've spoken to about the 'voices' are other writers. I'm not THAT stupid. :P]
You have random pieces of paper, envelopes, napkins, toilet tissue, and church bulletins scattered throughout your house and car that contain the chapter you’re currently writing. [Post-its and notebooks, but they're in one place.]
You’ve started chewing coffee beans because actually making coffee means leaving your computer.
Your diet consists of take-out, microwave/crockpot dinners (which your your five-year-old is in charge of), and CHOCOLATE. Your family has learned to deal with it. [I miss those days...]
You know more than ten verbs to describe the way someone walked into the room.
An ink stain on your middle finger is a badge of honor.
Poorly written novels make you bipolar—elated knowing that you’re a better writer, and depressed because that hack got published and you can’t get past the acquisitions editor. [OMG THIS. Sometimes I really hate reading books for this reason. I'm all "I could have written that sentence better" and then kicking myself becuase if that were true, it would be my name on the cover. Sigh.]
You use semicolons (correctly) in e-mails, forums, and blog posts; you just can’t help yourself.
It takes you forever to send a text message on your cell phone because it has to be properly spelled and punctuated. “Chatspeak” is totally incomprehensible (not to mention totally annoying) to you. -- [It doesn't take forever with predictive texting. That's what it's THERE for.]
Writing is all you can think about when you don’t have time to do it, and the last thing you want to do when you set aside time for it. [Not intentionally.]
Your coworkers show up at work with red eyes and headaches from partying too much. You show up with red eyes and headache from waking up at 3 a.m. with the perfect conflict for your story.
You have favorite words—probably a different one each week, month, or manuscript.
You know the difference between metaphor, allegory, and analogy—and you use all of them.
You knew you’d never make it as a journalist when you realized you’d rather make up the story than chase down witnesses or experts for quotes and details. [That and years of people telling me to be a journalist.]
The thought of sharing a computer with someone else horrifies you. What if they accidentally download a virus? What if they change the settings in Word? WHAT IF THEY READ MY STUFF???
You live in a constant state of “What if?” [Yes, but not just in the writing sense...]
Right, that's that. I shall now make some food, have a shower and watch Glee, and then hopefully later Yahoo will cooperate and open my bloody entry.