The Book That Wrote Itself

Introduction

This is inspired by the AI image I generated for my final Vocal L*pogram challenge entry which I binned, but I liked the image a lot and wanted to use it for something. I came up with the title and found out it was used for a 1999 film which you can check out here:

This has nothing to do with the film.

The music is "Trust" by Price Rogers Nelson from the soundtrack of "Batman".

The Book That Wrote Itself

he always wanted to be an author, but while he knew he could write a book, it then have to be printed and bound, and that would cost money.

He didn't even have a typewriter, so every word would have to be handwritten, and if he made a mistake then that page would have to be rewritten.

It was late and the words were coming slowly, he moved his hand and something caught his finger, a stray staple holding the pages together and blood dripped onto the page. He was tired and needed to sleep so went to bed.

When he got up he showered and dressed and went to check his writing and was shocked. He only remembered writing a few lines, but there were two pages here.

He read them and the writing was good and legible.

Then he remembered the blood, but there was none on the page, and he looked at his finger. There was a small scratch, so he didn't think he had imagined it.

The staples holding the sheets together were not exposed. He wasn't sure what had happened or if anything had happened.

He went to work and would continue his manuscript when he got home.

He wished he could make enough money to buy a typewriter, or, he dreamed, a computer and printer. That was way beyond him with the pay he received from his current job.

When he got to work, his manager said he looked pale and asked him if he was alright. He felt a bit tired but said he was fine and got on with his work. He wondered about asking if he could borrow a work computer but knew that would not be allowed.

He went home made a small meal, and watched some television.

He then went and continued his writing. This time he completed a few more pages and then he was feeling drowsy, so decided to hit the sack, but again that rogue staple caught him and dripped onto the page.

He didn't bother trying to clean it, he would sort it in the morning, he was so tired.

The following morning he woke but was so tired, like he had been drained, but he had to go to work.

He checked his manuscript again and there were over a hundred pages, and no blood. What the hell? Was he sleepwriting?

A quick scan through the pages and he thought it looked good, it was more than half finished. Another hundred pages and he could take it to a publisher and maybe get published.

At work, his boss and colleagues said he looked terrible, white as a sheet, and told him to go home and see a doctor.

He went home and thought he would rest and write a few more pages, again the rogue stape got him and dripped onto the manuscript.

Obituary

Mr XXXXX was found exsanguinated after his manager called the police. He had not been to work for three days.

He had been working on a manuscript for publication and was on his desk. Three hundred pages and the police gave it to the local library, who were very impressed and found a publisher.

This would be a best-seller and the profits would help keep the library open.