A Snarkling in training writes:
One accumulates the impression - from reading aspiring writer's complaints and editorial expositions - that there exists a coalescence of Us and Them. You know THEM. They live over the mountains and they have dastardy orgiastic rites and eat babies sometimes. Almost a cultish type of paranoia, and both groups seem to reflect it. Both whine that the other doesn't understand them, they are so overworked, etc. High temperatures and kitchens come to mind.
Kitchen? What is that?
Oh right, that room with the large white box Miss Snark glimpses as she struggles to make coffee in the cruel glare of morning light, and where she rescues her shivering little vodka bottle in the evening.. gotcha.
Miss Snark is fond of being an US of one but your point holds.
In fact, Miss Snark does know of dasterdly orgiastic rites, having been to a writing conference or two, not to mention Judith Regan's office before she scuttled off to LA.
But she gets your drift.
There is more than a certain amount of collegial sniveling about THEM. "This business would be great if it wasn't for writers" is a joke...sort of. On more than one occasion in the middle of a negotiation Miss Snark has had her knickers in a twist cause the author didn't understand some screamingly obvious detail like the difference between first and second serial rights. It took the concerted effort of three staffers to pull the stiletto heel from Miss Snark's crazed claw...but that's another story.
There's always going to be Us and Them. It's a condition of the human animal. We are incapable of being in close knit communities that exceed about 100 people I think. I read this somewhere, my recollection is foggy, but the idea is that humans can only be in groups of 100 before the sense of division, and THEM, kicks in.
On the other hand, if you want to breach that gap, come work in my office for a day, or a week, or a month. Im not sure you'd get a sense of how it is to work solely on commission, in an industry that controlled by the likes of WalMart, but it would certainly give you grist for the mill.
On the other hand Miss Snark isn't going to come walk a mile in your shoes for love or money. It would require leaving New York City and giving up her primary weapons. Not even for you, dear Snarklings.