I've been writing technical manuals, human-interest stories and humor columns for years now and, at one time or another, I've met, corresponded with, and even become friends with other writers in those fields around the world. Some of them, as I, were moderately successful before I knew them, some became successful while I've known them, and some are just beginning their writing careers. As first time writers, I've even helped a few of them get published.

Over the years, especially with my humor writer cronies, we've traded laughs, tips, and ideas. I've even co-written a few columns with them, traded name placement with them in columns and critiqued pieces for a number of other different humorists. So, let me say here and now: I hate them all!

Okay, maybe hate is too strong a word. How about despise, detest -- even loath. Please, don't get me wrong. They're all wonderful people, and I even consider a couple of the non-famous ones my online friends. But I would think much more favorably about all of them if they weren't humorists -- and I mean so goddamn funny!

But how can this be a problem, I ask myself? One of my more famous colleagues, who shall remain nameless, is a kind man who offered me some advice in the early stages of my writing career and his autographed photo after I asked him to join another humor writers group. "Write about current events, he told me. Another colleague even politely declined my invitation to join a humor website I was creating. Even with all these so-called good feelings running rampant throughout the humor community, do you think I'm alone in my professional envy of other humor writers?

Hell no. We all hate each other!

It's true: every humor writer everywhere hates every other humor writer. Oh sure, we all admire each others' creativity and talent, and publicly state how much we love each other's work. But beneath the surface, every humor writer is dripping with envy. It oozes out of our pores. Despite all our well wishes to our fellow humorists, we secretly despise each other. We're tired of hearing about everyone's book deals, book tours, and requests to write screenplays. I've even heard a rumor (which I started) that one humor writer I'm well acquainted with is even being interviewed personally by Disney chairman Michael Eisner to be his office boy! We want these successes to be our own, and we hate each other for getting what we think should be rightfully ours.

So late at night, when we're alone, our jealousy bubbles to the surface and we're totally consumed by our loathing. We draw grotesque pictures of our competition being eaten alive by weasels or have dreams of the day they can be dunked alive in a vat of boiling oil or throw darts at their publicity photos. We whine and cry into our computers, "Why him? Why not me?"

At least I hear that's what the jealous humorists do. But that's not me. I'm not so overly melodramatic. I just sign them up for subscriptions to book clubs and porn magazines. So, why do we do it? Why do we look at our fellow humorists as competition rather than teammates and friends? Why can't we be truly happy for them?

Because we're all afraid everyone else is funnier than us, that's why! All of us are that way! Even the top professionals in our field suffer from a deep-seated envy of other humor writers or just writers in general. It doesn't matter who supports us, tells us we're great, or that we're funnier than anyone else they've ever read. In addition to envy, we're all have self-esteem issues that makes us believe the only people who find us funny are the people who are supposed to: our parents, spouses, close friends, and -- dare I say it -- our editors!

In the past, I've been compared to a lot of great humorists. Had one of my critics even mentioned Mark Twain? "Gee, you're much bigger than (he, she) is," or "Wow, you're not quite as dead as (he, she) is!" Some people have even gone so far as to say they like me better than -- was it Mark Twain?

And those kinds of kudos are always great to hear. My head swells as big as Texas when someone says my name on the same day they mention -- was it Mark Twain -- let alone making a direct comparison to him. Trust me, any comparisons to the master is like gold to any humor writer, and they're always vastly appreciated, because we need our egos stroked constantly. But still there's a part of us that always thinks, "This person must have forgotten his insanity medication. There's no way I'm as funny as the great one was.

I have to tell you that because we worry about everything we humor writers are a neurotic lot. We make jokes about anything, but worry that we make them about the wrong thing. We try to push the envelope on what's funny, but worry that we'll offend and insult our readers. We love comparisons to "the Big Boys" - oh man, do we love comparisons to the Big Boys! - But worry that we'll forever be in their shadows.

But I warn you not to cry for us. This is the path we've chosen -- being writers. We want to make you laugh, cry, think and feel anyway we can even if it's for little or no pay. So if you ever meet a humor writer, or any other kind of writer, just pat him or her on the shoulder, give a knowing nod, and say:

"I understand how you feel, and I appreciate what you do."

And while you're at it, don't be a big cheapskate! Slip him 20 bucks! It's not like we get rich doing this!