Heavens forbid some of the cultural products that get published are fruit of people with a variety of lives and real jobs and experiences to draw inspiration from, and not some monoculture crowd of childless mentally ill substance-using sexually deviant bums deep in a feedback loop of delusion as they surround themselves with others just like them, who read the same books, who watch the same movies and TV, and sniff each other's farts as they LARP about being artists.
Following Pat as a cow is a window into the whole aspiring author corner of Twitter and, as pathetic as he looks, he's just acting the same way a tonof his peers do. That's why he can't fathom the ridicule, to him it's normal. They're all constantly tweeting about working on sceenplays that never go nowhere, "talking shop" about "the craft", performance-writing photos like Pat at the bar, airing grievances with the publishing industry they aren't even a part of. "Fake it til you make it" taken to an extreme.
But no, I'm sure it's the 40 hours a week working at an accounting firm what's preventing them from being the next Mark Twain. Cope.