Final Draft

"We've been watching you."

"What? Why?"

"We like to keep tabs on...our people."

"Your people?"

"Them who feel the most at home among the tangled webs of good ideas expressed poorly. The ones who bring order to chaos."

"Huh?"

"You summoned us. You used the red pen. Didn't you?"

"I didn't know it was a thing."

"You think everyone prints emails, corrects them in red pen and slides them under their boss's doors?"

"I didn't know it was a spell."

"Ignorance of the law does not exempt one from its effects."

"So now you're...watching me?"

"And making The Offer."

"What?"

"For someone so obsessed with language, you need a lot of clarification."

"Fuck you, too."

"If you accept The Offer, the abilities you possess will be strengthened to a degree you cannot imagine. In any letter, any manuscript, any draft of written work, the correct words will reveal themselves. You will be able to make anyone sound exactly as they wish to be heard."

"What's the catch?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm not stupid. As you have so obnoxiously noted, I'm more familiar with narrative convention than most. And magic powers, however...niche and pedantic they may be, always come at a price."

"Ah. Once you accept The Offer, you relinquish your own voice. Nothing you write yourself will ever come close to that which you do for others."

"You're kidding."

"It's not like you were making progress on that novel, anyway."

"...I can't tell if I hate that you're right more than I hate giving up the option."

"The Offer is a guarantee. You will be highly sought. Your praises will be sung in couplets you perfect."

"But no one will ever know it was me."

"Except the writers."

"...fuck it. I accept."

"Excellent. How will you be known?"

"Call me...The Editor."