Delivering the words to readers was all that mattered. The roughly typed pages, the smudged ink, the imperfect typesetting with its widows and orphans and spelling mistakes, the poor punctuation, the stream of consciousness – they all undid the intended goal. Words were diluted, their meaning lost in the translation of the the physical process of writing. I really need to develop my telepathy and find a niche market, he thought, screwing up another draft.
Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,
and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.
