“I heard she can write more than 20,000 words in an hour.”
“Nobody can write that many words. Much less edit them.”
“Well, it’s happening. She’s got a job, too, you know.”
“And a family. And a social life. And she keeps up with the comments.”
“Oh lordy. The comments. I haven’t even thought about the comments in weeks now. I just don’t see how it’s possible.”
“Well, it obviously is. I don’t know what the secret is.”
###
Somewhere, in a secret underground bunker, a mysterious writer turns on the time compressors. Their pleasant hum relaxes her, and makes it that much easier to write. She sits down, ready to get to work.
Another version of herself slips into the room and sits down at a keyboard. And another comes in a moment later. They know what they're writing, because they've already written it. Paradox maintenance just comes with the territory.
It isn’t possible - none of it is - but it’s the only way. And there’s so much writing to do.
It’s ok, though.
She’s got the time.
~~~
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