The wonderful thing about publishing on the internet is the range of insightful, generous, and supportive comments my writing receives. Here are a few from a recent humour piece, taken from a range of sources.

If by some chance the author is being facetious or this was an attempt at humor, I certainly didn’t get that….

I’m afraid I disagree very much with Tom Mitchell’s movie comments … So ‘ Apocalypse Now ‘ was lensed in the Philippines there was now way it could have been shot in Cambodia or Vietnam at that time. Yes the story line is a bit muddled but ‘ Heart of Darkness’ on which the film is based is also cloudy. I can’t comment on his other choices.

I guess this is how you wrote your article. Eh ?

(In response to my sentence ‘trippy or what?’)

If this were written by the Onion, Norm Macdonald, or by someone I’ve heard of, I’d spend more time trying to discover its purpose but I’ve already spent 13 minutes I’ll never get back. No one reads this much text anymore unless they are into a novel or school. In the age of gifs, AI that will read to you and video content that is consumed about 91% more than static text, I’m gonna give Tom the benefit of doubt and assume there’s something clever here but I’m not inspired enough to take the time to find it.

He’s a very sloppy writer — gets a lot of details wrong. Did he even see these films?

Plus, the typos!! “Sled” became “sledge”, etc. but I thought maybe that was all part of the “joke”.

Ths article is a joke. Seriously.

What really impresses me is the writer’s lyrical, but stark, prose. It represents the prosaic nature of everyday life but contains the poetry of the quotidian too. A neat trick.

I shan’t ruin the ending but: wow. I’ll never be able to look at a cat in the same way. And I guess that’s the mark of genius: you take all those hours of MFA study and you distill it in a moment that makes the reader frown, smile, then scratch their chin, saying ‘well I’ll be damned.’

Raymond Carver. You hear what I’m saying? Read through the story again and don’t tell me you don’t see it. Raymond. Flipping. Carver.

The themes — threaded like speaker wire. As delicate too. But, like speaker wire, able to communicate the loudest of meanings. What does it signify to be a woman in 2017? And a sexual woman too? A woman who likes cats. And a man. Who is a man?

She raises many questions. It’s our job to answer them.

And the irony! She gets it, the author, she understands the modern world. She understands the difficulty of relationships in the modern world. In exactly the same way that the Romantics, William Wordsworth, for example, rejected industry for the sublimity of nature, the author of ‘Cat Person’ rejects technology (your social media, your dating apps) for just being. But, yes, the irony. It’s cold. As cold as a dead Truman Capote, I’m telling you.

The way New York is contrasted with a more rural location? Get out of here!

My only complaint? That this isn’t a novel. I’m refreshing the New York Times Books page every minute, just waiting for news of her six-figure deal with HarperCollins. And well deserved it will be.

Because she gets it. The New Yorker gets it. And we, the readers, we get it too.

We might have to attend but we don’t have to suffer.

1. Talking to people

There’s one thing you need to escape the horror of talking to people. Especially if there’s food involved.

What is it?

It’s AN EXCUSE.

This takes planning but you have a choice.

Either:

a) fake a death in the family;

b) fake a terrible illness.

Obviously both scenarios will provide you with chat avoidance justification. Both require preparation: faking funerals/coughs. Maybe constantly wear a black tie and take up smoking in the weeks before the party?

You’ll also need to practice welling your eyes with tears on cue. Try onions or laser eye surgery. Or thinking about your life.

In short: people will do anything to avoid chatting with you. (Especially if you also smell of onions.)

2. Dancing

There comes a time when younger, more attractive colleagues insist you dance with them. Sadly, short of feigning lower body paralysis, there’s no way of avoiding this. They think it’s funny. They make you a figure of fun.

There was a time in 2003 when you could dance without self-awareness. But, as 50 Cent will tell you, it’s no longer 2003. Things have changed.

Show the kids there’s more to your dancing than comedy. Move your feet in time to the beat, purse your lips, and after a minimum of three tracks, mime needing a toilet. Nobody will want to run the risk of a wet dancefloor: you will be excused. And they’ll find someone else to torture.

3. Drunk colleagues

Alkaline cancels out acid in the same way that drunk co-workers neutralise each other. When Jim from IT services lurches over to your table, promising you filter privileges if only you could get him another vodka and cranberry juice because they’re refusing to serve him, scout Trish from accounts. She’s always drunk. Even when it’s not the office party.

If necessary, physically drag them together for, when they meet, their intoxication will collapse in on itself. Like a cat fascinated by its own reflection, the drunks will keep to their own and bother you no more.

4. Having a crush on a co-worker

You can either get so drunk that you express your undying love or you can get so drunk that you cry on the shoulder of that guy from the shadowy side of the office who’s always at the photocopier.

Either way, if you’re in love: you lose.

Either way, if you’re in love: get drunk.

The attractive co-worker is young and happy. You’re neither. You’ve no chance. That time they complimented your shirt meant nothing and you know it.

5. Your boss

Hide.

(Choosing an appropriate costume will help. Dress differently to your usual office outfit and your boss might assume you’re somebody else. You could even wear a badge with a different name on it. Geoff, for instance. Laugh this off as fashion to any co-worker who recognises you.)

6. Leaving

Go hard and go home.

Say goodbye to nobody.

As soon as you’ve been seen by sufficient colleagues to have your presence later confirmed to HR, leave. The best way of doing this is by saying nothing to nobody. Scope the exit as soon as you get into the venue and at all times have an escape route planned.

Claiming to be popping out for a cigarette is a good cover if you’re caught midway, especially if you smoke.

Have your Uber lined up already, obviously.

7. The next day

If it’s a weekend, meditate/medicate until all thoughts of work are expunged from your mind.

If it’s a weekday, sit with headphones on and a black baseball cap pulled down low. If anyone should speak to you, ignore them. Vomit if/when necessary. If your shirt front is covered in sick, nobody’s going to be bothering you.

7 solutions to 7 office party problems was originally published in Slackjaw on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Yesterday, I published a story called ‘Lies I tell my children at Xmas’.

Lies I tell my children at Christmas

It’s not about tech and it’s not promising an improved life if you get up sufficiently early. It’s not earnest and it’s not accompanied by stylish graphics.

It won’t, unlike me*, go viral.

But it’s free-to-read and it’s about to hit the 50 recommends mark. So do I change its status to ‘members only’?

I published my last two stories ‘In Praise of Silliness’ and ‘The Seven Best Bad Films Ever Made’ without restriction on who could read.

• In Praise of Silliness
• The Seven Best Bad Films Ever Made

They did okay. And as they both hit the 50 recommends mark, I changed them to members only. They’re both now hovering around the hundred mark. I know the way that payment uses more sophisticated numbers than this stat, but I’m assuming I’ll earn some money from them both.

But did I limit their potential readership? Was a New York Times editor close to clicking through before realising they’d reached their Medium paywall limit? Is it poor strategy, for a wannabe writer like me, to limit his pool of readers?

Do I need to balance the desire to earn money with the important job of building a readership? Is changing a story’s status halfway through its life cheating?

I’m not sure.

Should I just set all my stories to members and be damned? At least I’d get some money and, so close to Christmas with two young boys, Jesus knows I need it.

What do you think? What do you do?

Thanks for reading,

Tom

(@cakesthebrain on Twitter)

*I have a cold.

Medium membership: how do writers decide when to lock a story? was originally published in Thank You Anyway on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s just a pity I quit my job.

We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus.

Jesus never woke his parents before eight in the morning.

Jesus wouldn’t have wanted a Nintendo Switch.

I’m perfectly happy to continue answering questions about Jesus.

Mulled wine contains no alcohol and is perfectly fine to drink at breakfast.

Giving really is more rewarding than receiving. That’s joy on Mummy’s face, not pain. No, don’t take a picture.

Turkey is like chicken but nicer. That’s why we eat it at no other time of the year: to make Xmas all the more special.

Mummy’s taken a lie-down because the spirit of Christmas has given her a migraine. That’s not the sound of her sobbing. She’s probably laughing.

Father Christmas doesn’t run a sweatshop. Elves are unionised.

I’ve always wanted a two-sizes-too-small sweatshirt with a picture of a dolphin on its front.

Brussel sprouts taste really nice.

I’ve never seen Elf before.

Father Christmas won’t bring gifts to children who wake their parents before eight.

I don’t mean bourbon when I refer to the spirit of Xmas.

YouTube takes a break over the holiday period.

We have to stay at the grandparents’ house at Christmas because they’ve got the chimney Father Christmas needs.

Mum’s not on the naughty list, despite what I said when we were lost during the journey down.

It’s against the law to watch Paw Patrol at Christmas.

Granddad’s ‘Elvish Presently’ joke was hilarious.

Father Christmas wrapped up an Amazon delivery box because he’d run out of normal boxes.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is a perfect Christmas film and entirely appropriate for under 7s.

Daddy’s not crying because of too much mulled wine. Daddy’s just over-tired.

Turkeys are genetically programmed to pass peacefully away on the first of December.

No, the grandparents can’t turn the heating down.

It’s inappropriate to play Minecraft during the Queen’s speech, even if in Xmas mode.

You can never have too many socks.

Taking a long walk is a family tradition and, no, it has nothing to do with Mummy wanting to get away from the grandparents.

I have no problem with Granny repeatedly playing Paul McCartney.

The Frozen DVD is broken.

Christmas Carols are named after an old, old woman named Carol.

It’ll definitely snow and if it doesn’t, it’s because they never ate the sprouts.

If they don’t like their presents, I’ll give them to some children in Africa who will.

This time next year, everything will be fine.