I Am So Mad at Writers Right Now, I Want to Cry!

I was supposed to write about this topic next week. (Yes, I have a calendar of subject matter, but it’s not because I’m controlling; it’s because I’m forgetful.) But I’m too traumatized at the moment, so I'm moving up the timeline.

I hate writers.

Not writers like me. I love writers like me. Do you know why? We care about our audience more than we care about our delusions of godhood.

It’s now 1:28 on Saturday morning, and I feel like crying. This is after watching episode one-too-many of the Marvel comic book-based Agents of Shield.

I wish I could say I’m feeling despondent over the writers killing someone off. But they didn’t. That would have been a mercy in comparison. What they did is so much worse than death.

After some twenty episodes of building up bonds between the six main characters, they made one of them a turncoat. Like a MAJOR turncoat.

Worse yet, I am completely convinced they thought themselves oh-so-clever about it. That’s the only reason to do what they did... to have the following smug conversation around the boardroom:

“Look at us. We’re so clever and in control. We’ll make our audience get emotionally invested and then stab them in the back!”

I’m sure they chortled about it too. And then they hailed Hydra. (That's an inside snark for anyone who follows Agents of Shield or any of the other Marvel comic book movies,)

That attitude makes them equivalent to sociopaths. They literally (pun intended) plot out how to make people – real people: as in their audience, not their characters – suffer, and they enjoy it! Take it from someone who's spent too much time with this kind of person: They’re totally high on their own art, and they get even higher when their art brings people down.

This is why I don’t like so many writers. They’re bad people, with no consideration for anyone but themselves.

Sorry to say it, but whoever’s writing Agents of Shield is now officially in that category.

I'm going to go sob quietly in a corner now.