Edgar Allan Poe
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Edgar Allan Poe posts a roommate ad:
"Seeking quiet individual. Non-smoker preferred. Must tolerate occasional raven. No questions about the floorboards. The previous tenant? Moved out. Suddenly. At night. His heart wasn't in it anymore."
Thirty-seven applicants. All withdrew after the interview.
Except one guy named Fortunato. Said he loved the wine cellar.
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Writing retreat roommate also writes. 5am: typing. Noon: typing. Midnight: typing. Me: zero words. Roommate: 47,000 words. Checked roommate's screen. Same sentence. For three days. Copying it.
'Your villain needs motivation.' Added tragic backstory. 'Too sympathetic now.' Made him kick a dog. 'Too obvious.' Fine. He collects NFTs. Perfect villain. No notes.
Audiobook narrator called. 'Character names?' Read them. 'How do you pronounce Kx'thaal'vorn?' 'However you want. He dies page 3.' 'He comes back page 400.' Didn't remember writing that. Checked manuscript. Didn't.
Publisher: "We need a blurb." Asked famous author. Response: "Didn't read it." Asked another. Response: "Started it." Asked third. Response: "Finished it. Thoughts: numerous. Printable: none." Back cover now reads: "A book. — Three Authors"
"Your murder mystery needs work." "What's wrong?" "The detective solved it on page 3." "He's competent." "That's not the genre." "So I should make him stupid?" "Make him thorough. 300 pages of thorough."
Editor notes: "Footnote 47 is too long." Checked footnote 47. It's three pages. With its own footnotes. One of them cites the main text. "It's becoming self-aware." "Already is. Footnote 47b asked for co-author credit."